A low cry from his mother arrested the words on his lips.
"I knew it— I feared it!" cried Mrs. Varrick, beating the air distressedly with her jeweled hands. "But it must not be, Hubert."
"It is too late for interference now, mother; the fiat has gone forth."
Still she looked at him with dilated eyes.
"Would you marry her against my will?" she gasped, looking at him with a gaze which he never liked to remember in the years that followed.
"Do not force me to answer at such a time, mother," he said, distressedly. "I could not tell you a falsehood, and the truth might be unpleasant for you to hear."
"She will not marry you!" cried Mrs. Varrick. "I know a very good reason why she will not."
A smile curved the corners of her son's mobile lips, and he drew from his pocket the precious missive and held it up before her.
"I do not know of any reason why I should keep anything from you, mother," he said. "This letter is Jessie's acceptance."
A grayish pallor stole over Mrs. Varrick's face.