A LOVER'S THREAT.
"I love Lieutenant Carey, sir, did you say?" indignantly asked Jennie.
"Yes, it would seem so, for Herbert offers you his love, and you refuse
it, and this man Carey has certainly come between you."
"Father! Mr. Bernard! you speak like one who never knew what it was
to have a heart and refinement of feeling. Are you aware that you are
accusing me of loving a man whom I have met but once, and almost in the
same breath expect me to love Herbert, when only a few minutes ago I
learned that he was not my own brother. But let me tell you at once,
that Herbert Bernard is nearer to me, or has been, than ever he will be
again."
"Bah! you do not know your own mind, girl. Herbert is a noble fellow,
and has made you a good brother, and that is proof that he will make a
good husband. Both his mother and myself love you dearly, and he does
also, so just make up your mind that you are to remain our daughter by
our boy."
"Never! I would die first," was the indignant rejoinder.
"Well, we will see."
"But there comes Herbert now, and I will leave you for him to talk to."
"No! no! do not leave me here with him," pleaded the girl.
"What! do you fear my son?" angrily asked the settler.
Instantly the appealing manner of the maiden changed, and drawing
herself up, she said quickly, and in a decided way:
"No, I hold fear of no man. Leave me with your son, for he might as
well know now, at once, how I regard him and thus end this painful
matter."
Herbert Bernard was approaching the arbor, walking in the long swinging
gait natural to him.
He was a powerful fellow, with a face to distrust rather than admire,
and as taciturn in his manner as an Indian.
His father walked away as he drew near, and, passing him, said in a low
tone:
"She knows all and rebels against you, so be firm and win."
"Trust me for that, father," was the response in the same low tone.
Then Herbert Bernard walked on toward the arbor.
Jennie had resumed her seat, and was perfectly calm, though her face
was white, her eyes burning.
She had made a strange discovery, learned of her father's murder, her
mother's death and been told that she was expected to marry one whom
she regarded as her brother, and all within a half hour of time.
She glanced squarely into the face of Herbert Bernard, as he came into
the arbor, with a look that disconcerted him.
He tried to look indifferent, and as she did not speak, he was forced
to break the silence.
"Well, Jennie, I have come to have a talk with you," he said.
"I hope you do not intend to be so unmanly as to urge upon me that
which I regard as an insult, Herbert, for I have been told by your
father that I was not your sister, and in the same breath asked to
marry you?"
"That is just what I do intend to urge, Jennie."
"Herbert Bernard, you have been receiving my regard under false
pretences. You knew full well the secret of which I was in total
ignorance. You looked upon me as one whom you intended some day to make
your wife, while I have treated you in all things as a sister might a
brother, though I have regretted that you were not a brother I could
love more dearly than I did. Now let us understand each other once for
all."
"It is what I wish, Jennie."
"Then let matters remain as they were between us, do not break the tie
as it has been by uttering one word a sister should not hear. Herbert,
let us be friends, and I will bless you forever."
"No, I love you, and I have determined that you shall be my wife."
"Silence, sir! I will not listen to words I consider sacrilege."
"Father and mother wish it, and I urge it, for I love you most dearly,
Jennie, and I will do all in my power to make you happy."
He stopped as he caught sight of her face.
It was such a look as a stag at bay might wear, and instantly came the
words:
"Herbert Bernard, your words, against my appeal, have divided your life
and mine forever, for never can I remain beneath the roof that has
sheltered me, that has been my home, with you and your parents. Your
father has said that I have some fortune in my own right, so I will go
and depend upon it; but had I not a dollar in the world, had I to walk
from this ranch to the nearest city, walk I would, for this is no home
for me now."
"See here, Jennie Bernard, this----"
"My name is not Bernard, sir--I am Miss Virginia Woodbridge," was the
cutting response.
"Well, call yourself what you may, but this is all the work of Kit
Carey."
"And how his work, sir?"
"He came here with his city ways and flattery, and made a fool of you."
"He is one rather to make a woman regard herself with more respect,
rather than make a fool of her."
"It is just as I thought, he has turned your head, and you have no eyes
for me now."
"I never loved you, believing you to be my brother, Herbert Bernard, as
I could have wished to love a brother, and certainly now that I know
you as you are, I cannot even respect you. Stand aside, please, for I
desire to make my arrangements to at once leave your father's house,
for I do not believe, even your mother will give me her aid now."
"I will stand aside, Jennie, but I vow to you, that unless you promise
to be my wife you shall become the bride of Red Hatchet, the Sioux
chief."
And with this fearful threat the inhuman lover turned on his heel and
strode toward the house.