“Very well, I’m going to marry this man just because you insist upon it,” said Jess, bitterly. “I do not love him, and never will; and I shall do quite well if I do not hate him outright.” “You will learn to care for him in time, my dear child,” declared Mrs. Bryson, who was in no way disconcerted by the girl’s outburst. She was used to Jess’ fiery temper, as she phrased it. She lost no time in communicating the act to Lawyer Abbot, who came to the village to congratulate the girl in person, and to assure her that she had taken an eminently proper course in looking with favor upon the young man whom her benefactor had selected for her husband. He was considerably flustered by the girl answering in her terribly straightforward manner: “Perhaps I have, and perhaps I haven’t. All the books that I have ever read have been unanimous in the opinion that a girl should not marry a man unless she loves him.” “Tut, tut, my dear child; those were only love stories--romances, and people are not romantic in real life, you know,” declared the astute lawyer. “Then I pity the people in real life, and I wish I were the heroine in a romance,” replied Jess, tossing her dark, curly head defiantly, “for they are the only ones who live ideal lives.” The lawyer looked as he felt, bewildered, and he could see dimly outlined in the future, breakers ahead for the young man--if she married him. “She would be as likely as not to fall headlong in love with the first strolling gypsy that crossed her path,” he ruminated as he looked at her critically, “and then it would end in a divorce suit, or worse, if anything could be worse. I almost believe the girl is right. A creature of her fiery disposition should not have her hands tied in matrimony without her heart has been won by the man she marries. I hope all will be well; I can only hope it.” And as he looked thoughtfully out of the window, a premonition of coming evil seemed to sweep over his heart. Suddenly he joined Mrs. Bryson, saying: “I have a plan to suggest which I think you will approve of. Jess ought to be sent away for a few weeks where she will see something of the world, and when she sees how well Mr. Dinsmore compares with the generality of men, and learns by meeting them that they are not such heroes as her vivid, romantic imagination has caused her to believe them to be, she will be more--well, more satisfied with the future a kind fate has laid out for her.” “Your plan is a capital one, sir,” replied Mrs. Bryson, “but I know of no place that I could send her to.” “While we have been on this subject, the very place, an ideal home, has occurred to me. Some few years ago, when I lived in New York, I had a partner, a Mr. Trevalyn, who would be glad to receive her beneath his roof on a visit, if I requested the favor. He has a charming wife, and a daughter, Queenie, who cannot be so very much older than Jess. Would you like to go and visit this New York family, my dear?” he asked, turning to Jess.