“It’s all right, Mr Denning,” I said. “Nothing to mind now.”
But somehow I did not speak very warmly, for I was hurt by his cold reception of a man who had been risking his life to save him and his sister.
My feelings changed though the next moment, for to my astonishment Mr Denning laid hands on my shoulders, and he quite broke down and sobbed, while his words were choking and strange.
“Thank God!—thank God!” he said. “Oh, Dale, if you only knew what we have suffered, my poor sister and I!”
“Yes, yes, it has been horrible,” I said, trying to comfort him, for his illness had made him weak as a girl; “but that’s nothing to mind now. We’ve thrashed the scoundrels and locked them up, and Mr Frewen has behaved like a hero.”
“Yes; and—and I’m afraid I spoke very sharply to him, but I could not help it, Dale.”
“Well, you weren’t very warm to him,” I said; “and he does deserve something.”
“Yes, yes,” he cried hastily; “and I’ll try and thank him another time. Hush! she’s coming to.”
“Yes, and I mustn’t stay,” I cried quickly; for I was miserably uncomfortable, and wanted to get away before Miss Denning quite came to, and burst out sobbing and crying, as I was sure she would.
“Can’t you stop—a few minutes?” he said.