"Often and often, my dear. Why, he loves you; he has told me so a dozen times." The girl stuck her pretty chin in the air and looked supercilious. "Well, he is nothing to me," she said, crossly. "I don't like deceitful people. Oh, now, don't defend him," she added, seeing that Mrs. Jent was about to deliver herself of an indignant speech. "I know more than you do. As to Mr. Webster, well, he was good enough to say that he cared for me too." "I know. He has often spoken of you to me; but he has got over his fancy." "Oh, indeed!" cried Ruth, more angry than ever. "He calls his love for me a fancy, does he? Just like a man." Then she suddenly recollected her errand and resolved to make the best use of her time before Geoffrey could come back and interfere. "Poor Mr. Webster! No doubt he is grieving for his parents." The old lady started. "What do you know of them?" she asked, sternly. "All that he could tell me," was the reply. "He was engaged to me, and he told me all about himself and his people." "How foolish of him," Mrs. Jent said under her breath. "But I hope you don't think any the less of him, my dear. After all, he is not responsible for the wickedness of his father and mother." Ruth nearly jumped out of her seat. So Neil's father and mother had been what this old woman called "wicked people." And, moreover, he was suffering for what they had done in not being allowed to marry her; that was the way she put it. But she said nothing, and Mrs. Jent went on talking in the firm belief that her listener knew all the facts of the case. "Of course, it was a long time before he knew anything about his parents neither Mr. Cass nor I would tell him, you know. But last Christmas, when he was staying with you, my dear, he found it all out." "It was at Christmas that he told me about them," put in Ruth. But she did not add that it was of the American parents he had spoken. Indeed, she could not make out whether Mrs. Jent was alluding to them or to some other persons of whom she knew nothing. She felt confused. "Ah, well," went on the old lady, with a sigh, "I suppose the discovery was too much for him and he had to tell someone. And why not you? But, my dear," she laid a withered hand on the girl's arm, "if he had loved you he would never have told you about that nasty Turnpike House murder. Did he tell you his name was Jenner, my dear?" "No," said the girl, faintly. She knew the truth now. "Only that his parents--oh, I can't speak of it!" "It is terrible." The old lady shook her head. "To think of his mother having murdered her husband and being in gaol." "He never told me that!" shrieked Ruth, for she could play her part no longer. "Oh, great Heavens, what a horrible thing! No wonder my father would not let the marriage take place." "The marriage!" stammered Mrs. Jent, rising with an expression of alarm on her face.