He acknowledged most freely to himself that he did not love her, and never could; that he had wedded her through a principle of honor which urged him to give the girl his name that she might inherit the wealth that his uncle had intended for her, and that he had lost every atom of respect that he had entertained toward her at the acknowledgment from her lips that she had been betrothed to another, and had thrown that other lover over--to marry himself. “Had she confessed that before the marriage took place, I would have cut my right hand off sooner than have married her,” he muttered, grimly. The lesson he had received at the hands of the one girl he had loved, in this regard, had taught him to despise a jilt as he would the deadliest of cobras. Before he had met Queenie Trevalyn, he had believed in women much as he believed in angels--that they were incapable of deceit, or treachery, and could do nothing wrong. And now his experience with Jess strengthened the conviction that his theory concerning the fair sex had been radically wrong. Now he believed from the very depths of his heart that they were incapable of feeling a true affection, and were ready to jilt one lover, at the very altar if need be, if they found some one else more eligible--that they were mercenary to the heart’s core. He did his best to dislike little Jess, but, do what he would, his heart seemed to warm to her in spite of himself. “She is young, and has had no one to tell her, no one to warn her, of the sin of trifling with an honest man’s affections, and breaking his heart,” he ruminated, passing his hand thoughtfully over his brow. “There is only one thing to be done, and that is, to set her free as soon as it can be lawfully accomplished, that she may wed the man who held her plighted troth at the time she came here three weeks ago.” All that would take time. He felt sorry for the poor fellow, whoever he might be, because of that. He would see that Jess was free from the bonds that bound her to himself at the earliest possible day; that was the best he could do for his unknown rival. John Dinsmore thus settled the matter in his own mind, and tried to feel duly happy over the result of his decision, but somehow he felt a vague regret, he could not have told why. He had promised Jess that she should hear from him in the course of a week, or two weeks at the most. Now, after much reflection, he concluded to go to New York, and see her there, and tell her plainly the course he proposed to adopt. She could certainly find no fault with his action when he revealed to her the astonishing information that he, whom she had wedded as plain Mr. Moore, was in reality John Dinsmore, co-heir with her to all the Dinsmore millions. Her marriage with him had entitled her to her half of the vast estate, and he was willing to sign over the balance of it. He cared nothing for wealth, although it had poured in upon him from the sale of his famous book.