She was glad that she had had the forethought to put her New York address upon the note she had written him--recalling him; and she did not doubt that he would call upon her quite as soon as she reached home. Indeed, she expected to find a letter from him awaiting her there, and it was with almost feverish eagerness that she counted the miles as the train sped homeward. There was the usual number of epistles from girl friends and acquaintances, but the one she longed for most was not among them. “He will be sure to come this evening in person, and that is far better than writing,” thought the girl, ordering the servants to unpack her trunks at once. There were several callers, for the beauty of Newport was a favorite in New York society; but the evening was spoiled for Queenie Trevalyn when John Dinsmore was not among them. And when a week passed, and there was no sign, no word from him, she began to lose heart altogether. “I have offended him past all forgiving,” she would cry out to herself, in the solitude of her own room; and she would have given all that she held dearest in life, could she have lived over that half hour on the sands at Newport, with that eager, adoring lover at her side, holding her hands clasped closely in his, pouring into her ears the story of his love for her. Ah, could she live it over again, how different would be her answer! She had humbled her pride in recalling him, and now he was treating her with ignominious silence. She knew that her heart should have rebelled with the fiercest anger against him for treating her thus; but love conquered pride and anger, all that she ardently hoped for was to meet him once again. When a fortnight had elapsed, and as yet no word was heard from Mr. John Dinsmore, Mrs. Trevalyn began to renew her entreaties with her daughter to allow Hiram Brown to be presented to her, that he might cease his persistent importunings, not to say threatenings, with her father. “Wait just a little while longer, mamma,” pleaded Queenie, anxiously. “Well, we will give your Mr. Dinsmore another week in which to show up, and if we do not hear from him in that time, and no other eligible man puts in an appearance, you must accept the introduction to Hiram Brown,” declared Mrs. Trevalyn, energetically. “Time is fleeting, we have been home already three weeks, and have but eight or nine weeks left ere we are out of house and home.” Misfortune had not improved Mrs. Trevalyn’s temper, and from a plaintive, complaining woman, she had developed into a perfect virago, when she stopped to consider the precipice which they were nearing day by day, and Queenie had to stand the brunt of it, and it was the same old query day after day: “When are you going to allow Mr. Brown to be introduced to you?” and Queenie, in sheer desperation at length, answered wearily: “I don’t know. If it must be, it might as well be gotten over soon as late!”