She thought rather of Herbert Penfold, her first love, now ill, if not dying, of the days of their engagement and its rupture, than of the fact that her son was to inherit half the Penfold estates.

She had been sorely hurt at the time; and even after all these years it was a pleasure to her to know that the quarrel was not as she had often thought at the time, a mere pretext for breaking off the engagement, but that Herbert had really loved her, had cared for her all these years, and had been the mysterious friend whose kindness had so lightened her cares.
"I did not throw away my love after all," she said to herself, as with her eyes full of tears she stood at the window and looked out towards the sea.

"He cared for me enough to be faithful all this time and to think of me constantly, while I had almost forgotten the past.

I ought to have known all the time that he was acting under the influence of others--those sisters of his, of course.

I was always certain they hated me--hated the thought of my becoming mistress of Penfold Hall.