Jane was suffering the keenest pangs of jealousy, and asked,
excitedly:

"You--you did that?"

"And finally, when I had learned to care for him and he was wounded,
to have been denied the right of nursing him back to life--my place
usurped by you. Surely, I have as much to be proud of as you and
I love him a great deal more!"

"As much to be proud of---" Jane was saying, for the moment all
the warmth gone from her voice, the flame from her cheeks; but her
meaning could not have been understood by the other who proudly,
defiantly tossed back her head. Beautiful indeed was this
brown-skinned, black-eyed girl, as she stood there pleading her
rights to an unrequited love--a heart already tenanted by another,
and that other, the womam before her.

"Now, can you imagine," the girl went on, "how it has hurt me to
see you caring for him, to see his eyes forever searching for you?
No?" They were silent a moment. A wistful look was in her eyes now,
and her voice unmistakably reconcilable when she resumed: "Ah, he
was so good and true when I was alone with them--before you came! I
pray God, now, that he may be well and that you may make him happy."

"Alas, I am afraid that can never be! You cannot understand, and
I cannot explain."

"Your family objects because he is poor and a common soldier? Yes?"