The letter which was received at Blackheath Hall, announcing that the heir would soon arrive there, put Mrs. Bryson in a great state of trepidation. Jess must be found, told the truth and be made to realize that she was to appear before the strange gentleman who was coming, as a young girl of refinement—not a wild, barefooted savage who would not only shock, but horrify him, and shatter at once his uncle’s plans of marriage between them.
Clothes would have to be made in a hurry, and lessons given her in deportment; and she would have to be made to understand that her sweetness of demeanor, her behavior and conversational powers would mean wealth or beggary to her.
Every member of the household was sent out in search of the girl, but it was all to no purpose.
Not one of them once dreamed that Jess, up in the tree, was fairly convulsed with laughter at the annoyance she was causing them. She knew their plans, for she heard them discuss them freely as they hurried along, and then and there she determined that she would not take a single step out of her way to please the fastidious heir of Blackheath Hall. It was a matter of little concern to the girl whether he liked her or not.
CHAPTER XI.
REBUKED BY A GIRL.
At this critical point of our story it is necessary that we should return for a brief space to Raymond Challoner, whom we left still at Newport, though the Ocean House was just about closing for the season.
He had not put in an appearance when Queenie Trevalyn and her mother drove to the depot—not even to say good-by to the girl to whom he had been such a devoted lover for the whole season. With the loss of her fortune his interest waned. He did not get up from his comfortable chair as the hotel ’bus whirled past the door, with the girl and her mother as passengers, to take even a last look at the beauty of the season.
“Good-by, sweetheart, good-by!” he murmured, with a grim laugh, as he lighted a fresh Havana—then he proceeded forthwith to forget the Queenie Trevalyn romance and to look forward to conquests in pastures new.
He was terribly short of funds, and concluded that, under the present condition of affairs, he could not afford to settle his board bill just yet. Consequently, when the clerk of the hostelry sent up to the young millionaire’s apartments for the trifling amount which was still on the books against Mr. Raymond Challoner, that gentleman was found to be missing, bag and baggage.
Ray Challoner had shaken off the dust of Newport from his heels, and had gone as far away from the scene of his late social triumphs, and failure to secure a matrimonial prize, as possible. Was it fate that he should choose New Orleans as his place of destination? Who shall say?