Nedra Part 43

"What is it, Grace? What is the matter? What is it, Veath?" he gasped.

She sank to her knees on the floor and sobbed.

"Oh, Hugh! I am not worthy to be loved by you." He tried to lift her to her feet, absolutely dumb with amazement. "Don't! Don't! Let me lie here till you are gone. I can't bear to have you see my face again.

"Grace!" he cried blankly.

"Oh, if I had been drowned this could have been avoided. Why don't you say something, Henry? I cannot tell him." Veath could only shake his head in response to Ridgeway's look of amazed inquiry.

"Is she mad?" groaned the returned lover.

"Mad? No, I am not mad," she cried shrilly, desperately. "Hugh, I know I will break your heart, but I must tell you. I cannot deceive you. I cannot be as I once was to you."

"Cannot be--deceived me--once was--" murmured he, bewildered.

"While I mourned for you as dead I learned to love another. Forgive me, forgive me!" It was more than a minute before he could grasp the full extent of her confession and he could not believe his ears.

Gradually his mind emerged from its oblivion and the joy that rushed to his heart pa.s.sed into every vein in his body. At his feet the unhappy girl; at the window the rigid form of the man to whom he knew her love had turned; in the centre of this tableau he stood, his head erect, his lungs full, his face aglow.

"Say you will forgive me, Hugh. You would not want me, knowing what you do."

"For Heaven's sake, Hugh," began Veath; but the words choked him.

"So you love another," said Hugh slowly, and cleverly concealing his elation at the unexpected change in the situation. He was not without a sense of humor, and forgetting, for the moment, the seriousness of her revelation, he could not resist the temptation to play the martyr.

"My dear girl," he went on with mock gravity, "I would sacrifice my life to see you happy! Whoever he may be, I give you to him. Be happy, Grace;" and with decided histrionic ability concluded heart-brokenly: "Forget Hugh Ridgeway!"

A portrait of a buxom lady hanging on the wall received the full benefit of his dejected glance; and she could have told the unhappy lovers that the wretched man had winked at her most audaciously.

"When are you to be married?" he resumed solemnly.

"To-night," she choked out, then added quickly:

"But I won't, Hugh--I won't marry him if you say--"

"Not for the world! You must marry him, Grace, and I'll bless you," he interrupted quickly, even eagerly. Then there came a new thought: "Tell me truly, do you love him better than you loved me?"

"I love him better than the world!"

"Thank G.o.d!" exclaimed the discarded lover devoutly. "Give me your hand, Henry, old man--there is no one in all the world whom I'd rather see get her than you. You saved her and you deserve her. Take her and be good to her, that's all I ask; and think of me once in a while, won't you?

you? Good-by."

Without waiting for an answer he broke away, as if starting for the hall.

"Please don't go away like that!"

The cry of anguish came from Grace, and she threw herself sobbing on Veath's breast.

Hugh turned like a flash. Contrition and the certainty of his power to dispel her grief showed plainly in his face.

"Don't cry, Grace dear," he begged, going over to them. "I was only fooling, dear. I'm not a bit unhappy." Grace looked up wonderingly at him through her tears. "You must take me for a brute," he stumbled on penitently. "You see--you see--er--the fact is, I'm in love myself." He did not know he could be so embarra.s.sed. Veath actually staggered, and the girl's tear-stained face and blinking eyes were suddenly lifted from the broad breast, to be turned, in mute surprise, upon the speaker.

"What did you say?" she gasped.

"I'm in love--the very worst way," he hurried on, fingering his cap.

"And not with me?" she cried, as if it were beyond belief.

"Well, you see, I--I thought you were drowned--couldn't blame me for that, could you? So--I--she was awfully good and sweet and--by George!

I'd like to know how a fellow could help it! You don't know how happy I am that you are in love with Veath, and you don't know how happy it will make her. We were to have been married a week ago but--" he gulped and could not go on.

Grace's eyes were sparkling, her voice was trembling with joy as she cried, running to his side:

"Is it really true--really true? Oh, how happy I am! I was afraid you would--"

"And I was equally afraid that you might--Whoop!" exploded Hugh, unable to restrain his riotous glee a second longer. Clasping her in his arms, he kissed her fervently; and all three joining hands, danced about the room like children, each so full of delight that there was no possible means of expressing it, except by the craziest of antics.

"But who is she?" broke out Grace excitedly, as soon as she could catch her breath.

"And where is she--can't we see her?" put in Veath, slapping Hugh insanely on the back.

"She's a G.o.ddess!" burst out Hugh, grabbing his cap and running out of the room, shouting hilariously: "Follow on, both of you, to the hotel, and see me wors.h.i.+p at her shrine!"

CHAPTER x.x.xV

_HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF_

Hugh lost no time on the way back to the hotel. The lazy driver awoke his lazy horse and, to the intense amazement of both, the vehicle held together during the return trip. At least a dozen rattling b.u.mps over rough places in the street caused the driver to glance apprehensively over his shoulder in the unusual fear that his fare and the cab had parted company. For the first time in ten years he was sufficiently interested to be surprised. It astonished him to find that the vehicle stuck together as a whole.

On the way back, Hugh suddenly bethought himself of his financial condition. He was attired in a suit of clothes belonging to Mr.

Carruthers and the garments fitted him well. In one of the pockets rested his small leather purse. When he plunged into the sea on that memorable night a year ago it contained a half dozen small American coins and some English money, amounting in all to eleven dollars and thirty cents. Carefully he had treasured this wealth on the island and he had come away with the princ.i.p.al untouched. Now, as he jogged along in the cab, he emptied the contents of the purse upon the seat.

"Eleven thirty," he mused. "A splendid dowry. Not enough to buy the ring. No flowers, no wine--nothing but pins. My letter of credit is at the bottom of the sea. Borrowed clothes on my back and home-made clothes on hers. I have a watch, a knife, and a scarf pin. She has diamond rings and rubies, but she has no hat. By Jove, it looks as though I'll have to borrow money of Veath, after all."

Lady Tennys was in her room, strangely calm and resigned. She was wondering whether he would ever come back to her, whether she was ever to see him again. Her tired, hopeless brain was beginning to look forward to the dismal future, the return to England, the desolate life in the society she now despised, the endless regret of losing that which she had never hoped to possess--a man's love in exchange for her own.

She kept to her room, avoiding the curious stare of people, denying herself to the reporters and correspondents, craving only the loneliness that made the hour dark for her. It seemed to her that she had lived a lifetime since he went forth to find the girl who had waited so long for him.

Then came the rush of footsteps in the hall. They were not those of the slow-moving servants, they were not--a vigorous thumping on the door was followed by the cry of a strong, manly, vigorous voice. Her head swam, her heart stood still, her lips grew white and she could utter no sound in response.

He was coming at last to commit her to everlasting misery.

The door flew open and Ridgeway bounded into the room. Before she could move, he rushed over and drew her limp form from the chair, up into his strong embrace. She heard a voice, tender and gladsome, as from afar off, singing into her ear.

"Look up, darling! This is to be our wedding day--yours and mine! You are mine--mine!"

The glad light slowly struggled back into her eyes, but it was as if she had come from a death-like swoon. He poured into her dull ears the story of the visit to Grace Vernon, but he was compelled to repeat it. Her ears were unbelieving.

"Grace is coming here with Henry Veath," he said in the end. "By Jove, I am happy!"