"But all that I could hear with composure, mother, for bad as it is, it is not the worst."
"What is worse, then, my child?"
"That Herbert has dared to love me, dared to ask me to be his wife."
This touched the mother's heart, not for the sorrowing girl, but for her son, and she said quickly:
"And is it so terrible to become my son's wife, Jennie?"
"Oh! are you too blind not to see that my regard for him is so different, that I could never become his wife, never love him, that I hate him?"
"You hate my son?" cried the mother.
"Yes, and his father, and you surely do not wish me to hate you, too, by urging that you wish me to marry Herbert Bernard," and Jennie was upon her feet now, her face flushed with indignation.
"Jennie, I never had a daughter, and you have held the place of one in my heart. I have loved you from the moment you came into my home, and knowing that Herbert knew you were not his sister, knowing the truth myself, I have not regarded it as wrong that he should love you. Now that you know that he is not your brother, and, unless you are in love with this wild Lieutenant Carey, that your affections are not centered elsewhere, I must do as my husband and son demand, and tell you that it is the wish of us all that you shall become Herbert's wife."