“That?” he gasped, stunned by a feeling of misery and helplessness.
“Nat and I are engaged,” she said in a low voice without answering his question. “Just since last night.”
There was nothing more to be said. The banal wishes for happiness would not rise to his lips. He looked at her intently for a moment, saw her eyes again drop, and walked away. He was suddenly tired and wanted to go home and rest. The reaction of his nervous and physical strain had set in.
The hundred yards to his own gateway was a triumphal procession, but he scarcely realized it. Somehow he answered the acclamations that were 28 heaped upon him. He smiled, but he did not know how.
At the gate some one was waiting for him. At first he thought it was his mother, but he suddenly saw that it was Elsa Mallaby. He told himself that she must have come down to the village to watch the fire, and wondered why she was in that particular place.
“Code,” she cried, her face flushed with glad pride, “you were splendid! That was the bravest thing I ever heard of in my life. I knew you would do it!”
He smiled mechanically, thanked her, and passed on while she gazed after him, hurt and struck silent by the cold misery in his face.
“I wonder,” she said to herself slowly, “whether something besides what I told him has happened to him to-night?”