"Great Scott!" gasped his listener, starting from his chair. Now he realised that she had not been mistaken in her fears. "Does she know this?" he managed to ask.
"No, and I dare not tell her--I cannot. I had to tell some one, and to whom should I confess it if not to the brother of the woman I love? It is no disgrace, no dishonor to her. You cannot blame me for being honest with you. Some day after you have gone back to America you can tell her that I love her and always will. She has intimated to me that she is to marry another man, so what chance is there for a poor wretch like me? I don't see how I have endured the awakening from the dreams I have had. I even went so far as to imagine a little home in Manila, after I had won her from the mission field and after I had laid by the savings of a year or two. I had planned to fairly starve myself that I might save enough to make a home for her and--and--" but he could say no more. Hugh heard the sob and turned sick at heart. To what a pass their elopement had come!
Above all things, how could he comfort the unfortunate man? There was no word of encouragement, no word of hope to be given. The deepest pity he had ever felt went out to Henry Veath; the greatest remorse he had ever known stung his soul. Should he tell Veath the truth? Could he do it?
"Do you see my position?" asked Veath steadily, after a long silence. "I could never hope to provide for her as she has been accustomed to living, and I have too much pride to allow my wife to live other than the way in which I would have to live."
"She may not love you," said Hugh, suddenly hopeful.
"But I could win her love. I'm sure I could, Hugh. Even though she is pledged to another man, I could love her so powerfully that a new love would be inspired in her for me. You don't know how I love her. Hugh, you are not angry with me for having told you this?"
"Angry? Great Heavens, no! I'm heartbroken over it," cried Hugh. There were traces of tears in his eyes.
"You know how hopeless it is for me," went on Veath, "and I hope you will remember that I have been honest and plain with you. Before we part in Manila I may tell her, but that is all. I believe I should like to have her know that I love her. She can't think badly of me for it, I'm sure."
Hugh did not answer. He arose and silently grasped the hand of the other, who also had conic to his feet.
"I would to God that I could call you brother," said he.