like my noble-hearted mother!" he cried, enthusiastically. "I knew you could not be angry with me when you understood it."
The girl stepped hesitatingly forward. From the first instant that she beheld her standing on the threshold, she had conceived a great dislike and fear of Hubert's haughty lady-mother. Even the conversation and explanation which she had just listened to did not change her first impression.
Thus it happened that Jessie Bain took up her abode in the magnificent home of the Varricks.
But Hubert's mother made it the one object of her life to see that her son and this attractive girl were never left alone together for a moment.
He had seemed heart-broken over the loss of Gerelda Northrup up to the time that Jessie had entered the house; now there was a perceptible change in him.
He no longer brooded for hours over his cigars, pacing up and down under the trees; now he would enter the library of an evening, or linger in the drawing-room, especially if Jessie was there.
Had it not been for her son, and the terror from day to day in her heart that Hubert was learning to care for the girl, proud Mrs. Varrick would have liked Jessie Bain, she was so bright, so merry, so artless.
She lost no opportunity in impressing upon Jessie's mind, when she was alone with the girl, that Hubert would never marry, eagerly noticing what effect these words would have upon the girl.
"Wouldn't that be a pity, Mrs. Varrick?" she had answered once. "It would be so cruel for him to stay single always."
"Not at all," returned Mrs. Varrick, sharply. "If a man does not get the one that is intended for him, he should never marry any one else."
"And you think that he was intended for Miss Northrup?" questioned Jessie.
"Decidedly; and for no one else."
"Then I wonder Heaven did not give her to him," said Jessie.
Mrs. Varrick looked at her keenly.
"A man never has but one love in a life-time," she said, impressively.
A fortnight had barely passed since Jessie had been under that roof, and yet every one of the household noticed the difference in handsome Hubert Varrick, and spoke about it. He was growing gayer and more debonair than in the old days, when he was paying court to the beautiful Gerelda Northrup. Of all subjects, the only one which he would not discuss with his mother was the future of Jessie Bain.
She had on one occasion asked him, with seeming carelessness, how long he intended to care for this girl who was an utter stranger to him, and suggested that, since she would not go to school, his responsibility ought to cease.
"I have bound myself to look after her until she is eighteen," he answered.
"I want to have a little talk with you, Hubert, on that subject," she said. "Will you listen to me a few moments?"
"As many as you like, mother," he answered.
"I want to ask you if you have ever thought over what a wrong step you are taking in giving this girl a taste of a life she can never expect to continue after she leaves here?"
"You should be glad that she has a little sunshine, mother."
"It is wrong to place a girl in a brilliant sunshine for a few brief days, and then plunge her into gloom for the rest of her life."
"She has not been plunged into gloom yet, mother."
"If she could marry well while she is with us, it would be a great thing for her," went on Mrs. Varrick.
"Don't you think she is rather young yet? What is your opinion about that, mother?"
"It is best for a poor girl to marry as soon as a good offer presents itself, I believe. I have been thinking deeply upon this subject, for I have noticed that there is a young man who seems to be quite smitten with the charms of Jessie Bain."
Her handsome son flushed to the roots of his dark-brown hair, and he laughed confusedly as he said:
"Why, how very sharp you are, mother! I did not know that you noticed it."
"Of course he is not rich," continued Mrs. Varrick, "but still, even a struggling young architect would be a good match for her. She might do worse."
"Why, what in the world do you mean, mother?" cried Hubert Varrick. "What are you talking about?"
"Why, my dear son, have you been blind to what has been going on for the last fortnight?" she returned, with seeming carelessness. "Haven't you noticed that the young architect who is drawing the plans for the new western wing of our house is in love with your protégée?"
She never forgot the expression of her son's face; it was livid and white as death. This betrayed his secret. He loved Jessie Bain himself!
Chapter VIII.
A MOTHER'S DESPERATE SCHEME
"What makes you think the young architect is in love with Jessie Bain, mother? I think it is an absurd idea."
"Why do you call it absurd?" returned Mrs. Varrick. "It is perfectly natural."
Hubert turned on her in a rage so great that it fairly appalled her.
"Why did you permit this sort of thing to go on, mother?" he cried. "It is all your fault. You are accountable for it, I say."
Mrs. Varrick rose from her seat and looked haughtily at her son, her heart beating with great, stifling throbs. In all the years of their lives they had never before exchanged one cross word with each other, and in that moment she hated, with all the strength of her soul, the girl who had sown discord between them, and she wished that Heaven had stricken the girl dead ere her son had looked upon her face.
"I am sure it is nothing to you or to me whom Jessie Bain chooses to fall in love with," she answered, coldly. "You forget yourself in reproaching me with it, my son," and with these words she swept from the room.
The door had barely closed after her ere Hubert threw himself down into the nearest chair, covering his face with his hands.
He had loved Gerelda Northrup as few men love in a life-time, but with the belief that she had eloped with another, growing up in his heart, he had been able to stifle that love, root it from his heart, blossom and branch, with an iron will, until at last he knew if he came face to face with Gerelda she would never again have the power to thrill his heart with the same passion.
And, sitting there, he was face to face with the truth – that his heart, in all its loneliness, had gone out to Jessie Bain in the rebound, and he knew that life would never be the same to him if she were to prefer another to himself.
He rang the bell sharply, and in response to the summons one of the servants soon appeared.
"Send the architect – the young man whom you will find in the new western wing of the house – to me at once. Tell him to bring his drawings with him."
Hubert Varrick paced nervously up and down the library until the young man entered the room.
"You sent for me, Mr. Varrick," he said, with a smile on his frank, handsome face, "and I made haste to come to you."
"I
