"You shall not lay hands on him," Glen passionately declared. "He is
an innocent man, and it would be unjust to hurt him."

"Glen, Glen, what is the meaning of this?" her father demanded. "You
seem to be greatly interested in this fellow. I am surprised at you."

"I am interested, daddy. Nay, I am more than interested, for I love
him with my whole heart, so there. Don't you dare to touch him."

The strain of this interview was telling upon Glen. As soon as this
confession had left her lips, she was wild with regret. Why had she
done this? she asked herself, as she stood with big staring eyes
watching her father. What would he say? What would he not do to her?
Her body trembled, a weakness swept upon her, and sinking down into her
chair, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed as if her heart
would break.

If Jim Weston was astonished before, he was dumbfounded now at what his
daughter had told him. His heart went out in a great rush of pity to
his only child and he longed to take her in his arms and comfort her.
But he felt that he must be firm and not give way to any feeling of
emotion at a time like this. Instead, he laid his hand somewhat
heavily upon her shoulder.

"Does this fellow, Reynolds, know of your love?" he asked.

"No, no; he has not the least idea of it," was the low reply.

"And he has not avowed his love to you? Are you sure?"