“Very well,” returned the beautiful young widow, her hand trembling in spite of her apparent calmness, as she took the bit of pasteboard. “She will lie there, in just that condition until long after my interview with him is ended,” she muttered. “Still it is always wise to take every possible precaution.” So saying, as she glided from the apartment, she turned and locked the door noiselessly, and slipped the key into her pocket. On her way down to the drawing-room she paused long enough in her own apartment to secure a letter which she had spent long hours the night before in writing. In the drawing-room below John Dinsmore was pacing up and down impatiently enough at the delay, for he was sure his little wife would fairly fly down to his arms upon learning he was there. Jess’ reception of him the day before, and her acknowledgment of her love for himself, had fairly carried his heart by storm. He could not doubt but that other love affair had been brought about by a mistaken fancy on the girl’s part, and that her affection for himself was true love, the first and only time she had really loved. The peep he had had into her heart had been a revelation to him, and then, and then only, he realized an amazing truth, that his own heart answered that love--responded to it with an intenseness that startled him with its power. “Thank Heaven that I did not tell her yesterday that the object of my visit was to inform her that we must part; that I intended to divorce her. Great God! I must have been mad to think of flinging aside so ruthlessly a heart of such pure gold,” he ruminated. “I am thankful, indeed, that I knew my own heart in time. Instead of telling her that we must part, I will tell her that I am come to take her away with me, and that we shall never be parted more, and that I love her even more fondly than she loves me, and that henceforth our lives shall be one long, sweet dream of bliss, that her happiness shall be my care, and a lifetime of fond devotion shall repay her for giving her sweet, bright self to my keeping.” Would she never come to him? Oh, how the moments seemed to drag, he longed so to clasp Jess in his arms, and give her the first kiss of love, burning, passionate love, that he had ever pressed upon her lips--and she his bride. He almost believed that his love had developed into idolatry for Jess, his sweet girl-bride. CHAPTER XLII. THE PLOT THICKENS. “I believe love, pure and true Is to the soul a sweet, immortal dew That gem life’s petals in its hours of dusk. The waiting angels see and recognize The rich crown-jewels, love, of Paradise, When life falls from us like a withered husk.” As John Dinsmore instinctively turned toward the door, the silk portières were swept aside with a white, jeweled hand, but his disappointment was great, for, instead of beholding Jess, he saw Queenie, in her long, trailing robes of black, standing on the threshold.