Mr. Trevalyn had put him off with a plausible excuse for not granting his request at the time; but he dared not openly refuse to permit Hiram Brown the meeting with his daughter which he so ardently desired, some time in the future; for the old money-lender held many of his notes, and he told himself discretion in the matter was certainly diplomacy upon his part. “Let the matter rest until Queenie and her mother return from their summer outing at Newport,” Mr. Trevalyn had said, “and then I shall be pleased to present you to my daughter, Mr. Brown.” “What if the girl takes it into her head to fall in love with any of those young bloods there?” the miser had said, in his high-pitched, querulous tones. “There is not the least fear of that, my dear Brown,” Mr. Trevalyn had declared. “Queenie is only twenty, you know; she won’t be thinking of love or lovers yet, I assure you. She simply accompanies her mother there, who goes for her health.” But in his secret heart Mr. Trevalyn was only too anxious that his peerless young daughter should capture a wealthy young husband, and save the family from the ruin which he even then saw ahead of them; then he could laugh in old Brown’s face, and defy him to do his worst. He had been rather sorry that he had confided old Brown’s ambitions to Queenie and her mother, for the latter ever afterward was wont to declare that Queenie could fall back upon the hunchback miser, rather than not marry at all, much to the girl’s disgust, and just anger. “You have a right to think of your poor mother, even though you do not care for yourself or your father, Queenie,” exclaimed Mrs. Trevalyn, hysterically. “Brown is rich, and that covers a multitude of failings.” There was something so utterly heartless in this speech, that the girl’s heart sank within her. Since her encounter with Ray Challoner, all her worldliness had disappeared, and she had learned life’s sweetest lesson, that it is Love that rules, and that, unless the lover whom she had sent from her for false Ray Challoner’s sake returned to her, the future would not be worth living to her. Then and there she said to herself that she would win back John Dinsmore, and wed him, or go unwedded to the grave. She had just discovered his worth, as well as the fact that she loved him with all the passionate love of her heart--and would love him to the end of her life. It was wonderful how Mrs. Trevalyn recovered after the receipt of that letter, and announced herself quite well enough to take the next outgoing train, and insisted upon doing so, much to Queenie’s relief. As the New York express moved out of the Newport depot, Queenie Trevalyn little dreamed that she was leaving all that she held dear behind her. All the way back to the metropolis her thoughts were upon the lover for whom she now yearned so eagerly.