“Never.”
“You’ll tell me all your love affairs?” she asked softly, as she drew the shining blonde head down on her shoulder.
“Faithfully.”
“You know I’ve been afraid sometimes you were keeping something back from me, deep down in your heart—and I’m jealous. You didn’t refuse Henry Grier because you loved Ben Cameron—now, did you?”
The little head lay still before she answered:
MAE MARSH AS THE VICTIM OF RECONSTRUCTION.
“How many times must I tell you, Silly, that I’ve loved Ben since I can remember, that I will always love him, and when I meet my fate, at last, I shall boast to my children of my sweet girl romance with the Hero of Piedmont, and they shall laugh and cry with me over——”
“What’s that?” whispered the mother, leaping to her feet.