"And have you never since heard from your parents?" "Never! They must have died over there in America, or they forgot me. No one has ever cared for me my whole life long--nobody but my master." Jane clasped his hand more tightly. "Your parents did not forget you, Fritz; they sought for you, and bitterly enough mourned your loss for many years--they--would gladly have given all their riches to have their child once more; but he could not be found." An anxious, troubled look passed over Frederic's face, he made a vain attempt to raise himself upright in the bed. "Did you know my parents, Miss?" he asked; "did you ever meet them in America?" "They are dead!" faltered Jane. Frederic's head sank languidly back on the pillow. "I thought so!" he murmured. She bent close down to him, her breath swept his cheeks, and her voice sank to a whisper, "When your mother went to the ship, she was not alone, she carried a little child in her arms. Do you remember that child?" Around his lips vibrated a faint but happy smile. "Yes, my little sister, our Jennie! She must have been very little then, only a few weeks old, but I loved her so dearly!" "And that sister"--for a moment Jane was silent, voice and strength failed her--"would it give you joy to see her? Shall I show her to you?" Frederic gazed at her with a foreboding, expectant glance; her eyes, the tone of her voice had already revealed to him the truth. "Miss Forest--you--?" "My Fritz! My Brother!" broke out Jane passionately, and fell on her knees by the bedside. She did not heed the pain of her wound, she did not feel it at this instant. But the effect of this revelation was quite other than she had dreamed. The passionate excitement she had feared, did not come; Frederic lay there calm as before, and gazed at her, but there was something like anxiety, like timidity in his glance; he softly withdrew his hand from hers and turned his head away. "Fritz--!" cried Jane surprised and shocked. "Will you not look at your sister? Do you doubt my words?" A peculiar emotion, half pain, half bitterness, flitted over his face. "No, I am only thinking how well it is I am about to die. If I lived you would be so ashamed of me!"