The thought of that girl's marrying the Spanish officer was terrible. It flashed over him that that was the reason why the rescue had been attempted.
"Oh, Bessie!" he cried again.
Clif had never breathed a word of love to her in his life. But all through their trying journey through Cuba he had protected her, fairly worshiped her. And he had thought she understood his feelings.
And now he thought that he had lost her—she had promised to be that officer's wife! It was no wonder that he felt his hands grow icy.
His heart fairly stood still as he waited for the girl to go on.
"I will tell you," said Bessie. "You must know in the first place that this man is a gentleman, a hero in fact. You will understand it when I tell you what he has done."
"Go on."
"When he left the hospital, as I say, he begged me to marry him—declared he would resign from the army if I would."
The girl was breathing hard as she continued; it was evident that the subject pained her.
"I felt so sorry for him," she said, in a low, trembling voice. "For I think it has nearly broken his heart. I refused him. I told him that I liked him, but I did not, I could not marry him. I had been kind to him because he was ill. He swore that he would die for me—and, Clif, I think he has nearly carried out his promise."