"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 embarrassed. 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--"