“But, dear me, come and sit down in this sunshiny bay window, my little Jess, that I may have a better look at my newly recovered treasure; you are now so royally, regally beautiful, that I can scarcely believe you are one and the same little Jess whom I met in the wilds of Louisiana that eventful September morning, which seems long months ago, though it is in reality not so very long ago.” During the call, which seemed long and tedious to Jess, who was wondering if he would never, never go, her companion did all the talking, the girl barely answering in monosyllables, but he attributed this to bashfulness, though that was a trait in her character that he had not discovered during his brief sojourn at Blackheath Hall. “With your permission, Jess,” he said at length, “I should like to talk about our wedding; when shall it take place, my own love?” “Oh, I don’t know!” cried the girl, distractedly, “do not mention it to me--until the very last moment--and let it be as far off as you possibly can.” His brow darkened. “That is not a very kind speech, Jess,” he remarked, with considerable pique, “and does not speak very well for the depths of love you shall bear the man to whom you have plighted your troth.” She looked up at him appealingly. It seemed to her if he uttered another word on the subject she would go mad. How could she listen to words of love or marriage from another’s lips when her heart lay buried in the grave of the man she had loved so passionately, with all the strength of her nature? But she knew if she made the sacrifice which Queenie had impressed upon her was her solemn duty, she must make no outcry, utter no word of protestation against the marriage, or when it was to take place. “I know that you spoke in jest, my sweetheart,” Ray Challoner went on, smoothly, “to think otherwise would be to drive me mad, my heart is so entirely yours.” “Forgive me,” answered Jess, bravely, choking down a great sob that threatened to break forth and betray the state of her feelings. She listened like one in a far-off troubled dream while he talked to her of his plans for the future, and ended by praying her to name the day when he should claim her as his own. “I--do not know,” murmured the girl, wearily; “I--I will leave everything to you, Mr. Dinsmore,” and if he had not been so jubilant over the victory and the fortune so near his grasp, he would have noticed the suspicion of tears in her lovely, dark, mournful, despairing eyes. “Then I say, let it take place at once, my own,” he declared, “the sooner the better, say a week from to-day!” Jess shuddered, as with a sudden chill, but she kept control of her nerves by a great effort. He must not see how obnoxious the very thought of marriage with him was to her. She wondered vaguely how she was to pass the rest of her life with him when she found a few hours so intolerable as to almost drive her mad.