Mr. Bernard had gone off on the ranch somewhere, and Herbert had mounted his horse, and ridden away.
Mrs. Bernard wore a distressed look, and appeared very much as though she would have been glad to avoid an interview with the girl who deemed herself so deeply wronged by the conduct of father and son.
"Mrs. Bernard, mother, may I talk with you, for I am so unhappy," she said.
"Yes, my poor child, I will come to your room, if it must be; but you are not more unhappy than I am," was the kindly response.
The two went together to Jennie's room, so pretty and inviting under her refined taste, and throwing herself upon her knees she buried her face in the lap of Mrs. Bernard, who was herself deeply affected.
"Come, my child, you must not yield to your grief, or you will make yourself ill."
"But have you heard all, mother?"
"Yes, my husband said that he had told you the secret of your parentage."
"But that is not all."
"No, your father was murdered, and the shock of his death killed your mother."