"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.
"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."