Henry had resolved to keep his family ignorant of his intentions, but at the sight of Jenny he changed his mind,—­Jenny loved Mary, too.  Jenny would be delighted at the prospect of having her for a sister, and would help him brave the storm of his mother’s displeasure.

“Jenny,” said he, grasping at her dress, as she passed him on her way from the room, “Jenny, sit down here.  I want to tell you something.”  Jenny glanced at the fragments of the wine bottle, then at her brother’s flushed face, and instantly conjecturing that he had been drinking, said reproachfully, as she laid her soft, white hand on his brow “Oh, brother, brother!”

He understood her meaning, and drawing her so closely to him that his warm breath floated over her cheek, replied, “I’m not drunk, for see, there is no scent of alcohol in my breath, for I have sworn to reform,—­sworn that no drop of ardent spirits shall ever again pass my lips.”

The sudden exclamation of joy, the arms thrown so affectionately around his neck, the hot tears upon his cheek, and the kisses that warm-hearted sister imprinted upon his lips should have helped him to ratify that vow.  But not for her sake had it been made, and shaking her off, he said, “Don’t make a fool of yourself, Jenny, I wasn’t in any danger of disgracing you, for I was only a moderate drinker.  But really, I do want to talk with you on a very important subject.  I want to ask who of all your acquaintances you would prefer to have for a sister, for I am going to be married.”

“To Ella?” asked Jenny, and Henry replied scornfully, “No, ma’am! my wife must have a soul, a heart, and a mind, to make up for my deficiency on those points.  To be plain, how would you like to have me marry Mary Howard?”

“Not at all—­Not at all,” was Jenny’s quick reply, while her brother said angrily, “And why not?  Are you, too, proud as Lucifer, like the rest of us?  I could tell you something, Miss, that would bring your pride down a peg or two.  But answer me, why are you unwilling for me to marry Mary?”

Jenny’s spirit was roused too, and looking her brother fully in his face, she unhesitatingly replied, “You are not worthy of her; neither would she have you.”

“And this from my own sister?” said Henry, hardly able to control his wrath.  “Leave the room, instantly,—­But stay,” he added, “and let me hear the reasons for what you have asserted.”

“You know as well as I,” answered Jenny, “that one as pure and gentle as Mary Howard, should never be associated with you, who would trample upon a woman’s better nature and feelings, for the sake of gratifying your own wishes.  Whenever it suits your purpose, you flatter and caress Ella Campbell, to whom your slightest wish is a law, and then when your mood changes, you treat her with neglect; and think you, that knowing all this, Mary Howard would look favorably upon you, even if there were no stronger reason why she should refuse you?”