So the secret was buried still deeper in his bosom, he never thinking how his conduct would in the end injure the young girl, dearer to him far than his own life. While he sat thus alone in his room, and as his wife lay upon her sofa, Durward entered the parlor and began good-humoredly to rally his mother upon her wobegone face, asking what was the matter now. “Oh, you poor boy, you,” she sobbed, “you’ll soon have no mother to go to, but you must attribute my death wholly to your stepfather, who alone will be to blame for making you an orphan!” Durward knew his mother well, and he thought he knew his father too, and while he respected him, he blamed her for the unreasonable whims of which he was becoming weary. He knew there had been a jar in the morning, but he had supposed that settled, and now, when he found his mother ten times worse than ever, he felt half vexed, and said, “Do be a woman mother, and not give way to such fancies. I really wonder father shows as much patience with you as he does, for you make our home very unpleasant; and really,” he continued, in a laughing tone, “if this goes on much longer, I shall, in self-defense, get me a wife and home of my own.” “And if report is true, that wife will be ’Lena Rivers,” said Mrs. Graham, in order to try him. “Very likely—I can’t tell what may be,” was his answer; to which Mrs. Graham replied, “that it would be extremely pleasant to marry a bride with whom one’s father was in love.” “How ridiculous!” Durward exclaimed. “As though my father cared aught for ’Lena, except to admire her for her beauty and agreeable manners.” “But, he’s acknowledged it. He’s just told me, ‘God knew he loved her better than he did me.’ What do you think of that?” “Did Mr. Graham say that?” asked Durward, looking his mother directly in her face. “Yes he did, not fifteen minutes before you came in, and it’s not a secret either. Others know it and talk about it. Think of his giving her that pony.” Durward was taken by surprise. Knowing none of the circumstances, he felt deeply pained at his father’s remark. He had always supposed he liked ’Lena, and he was glad of it, too, but to love her more than his own wife, was a different thing, and for the first time in his life Durward distrusted his father. Still, ’Lena was not to blame; there was comfort in that, and that very afternoon found him again at her side, admiring her more and more, and learning each time he saw her to love her better. And she—she dared not confess to herself how dear he was to her—she dared not hope her affection was returned. She could not think of the disappointment the future might bring, so she lived on the present, waiting anxiously for his coming, and striving hard to do the things which she thought would please him best.