"Oh Hugh, that dreadful man! Poor woman!"
"Poor woman!" said Hugh, his eyes flashing. "It was poor you I thought of. Poor Rachel! to be marrying a man who—"
There was another silence.
"I have one great compensation," said Rachel, laying her cool, strong hand on his. "You are open with me. You keep nothing back. You need not have mentioned this unlucky meeting, but you did. It was like you. I trust you entirely, Hugh. I bless and thank you for loving me. If my love can make you happy, oh Hughie, you will be happy."
Hugh shrank from her. The faltered words were as a two-edged sword.
She looked at the sensitive, paling face with tender comprehension. The mother-look crept into her eyes.
"If there is anything else that you wish to tell me, tell me now."
A wild, overwhelming impulse to fling himself over the precipice out of the reach of those stabbing words! A horrible nauseating recoil that seemed to rend his whole being.
Somebody said hoarsely:
"There is nothing else."