k I was more hurt and
jealous than I had any right to be under the circumstances. I wrote him
how I felt, and he, as was only natural, thought me silly, and told me
so. That made me angry, and we quarreled for the first time in our
lives. It was only a foolish little quarrel, but it kept me from telling
him, as I should otherwise have done, how much I was going about with
Archie Randall.

"At first my father did not seem to notice how things were going, but I
think some one must have warned him, for one day when I came back from a
long walk with your father, he called me into his study, and told me he
did not wish me to have anything more to do with young Randall, who was
only a penniless artist, and not a proper companion for one of his
daughters.

"I am not going to tell you about that time, Betty. I was very angry,
and I am afraid I did not behave very well towards my father, who was an
old man, and who I think really loved me. When he found that I would not
obey him, he sent for Archie, and forbade him to see me again. Then all
at once your father and I found out how much we cared for each other. He
was very honorable. He wanted me to wait for him while he went away and
made a name for himself, but I was young and headstrong, and I loved him
better than anything else in the world. The end of it was that we ran
away, and were married in London by special license."

Betty gasped. This was the most interesting, romantic story she had ever
heard.

"And didn't your father ever forgive you?" she questioned breathlessly.

"No, never. He wrote me one letter after my marriage, and only one. He
said that I had disgraced my family, and he never wished to see my face
again. He said he had changed his will, and that neither I nor my
husband should ever inherit a penny of his money."

"And Uncle Jack, was he angry too?"

"He wrote me only once. He was very much grieved, and could not
understand how I could have acted as I had done. That was twelve years
ago and I have never heard a word from him since.

"We came to America, and after a time your father obtained employment as
an illustrator for a publishing firm here in New York. Then you and Jack
were born. We were very happy in those days, and if it had not been for
my longing to see Jack and know that he forgave me, I should have been
quite content. I was too proud to write to him, but kept hoping that
something would happen to bring us together again, and that he and