Nedra Part 21

"Poor fellow! When I told him last night that I was to be married within a year he actually trembled from head to foot. I never was so miserable over a thing in my life," she said dismally. "Really, Hugh, I can't bear to think of him finding out how we have played with him."

"Shall I tell him all about it?" asked he in troubled tones.

"Then I should not be able to look him in the face. Dear me, elopements have their drawbacks, haven't they?"

Other pa.s.sengers joined them, Veath and Lady Huntingford among them. In the group were Captain Shadburn, Mr. and Mrs. Evarts, Mr. Higsworth and his daughter Rosella, Lieutenant Hamilton--a dashing young fellow who was an old and particularly good friend of Lady Huntingford. Hugh noted, with strange satisfaction, that Hamilton seemed unusually devoted to Miss Higsworth. In a most casual manner he took his stand at the rail beside her Ladyship, who had coaxed Captain Shadburn to tell them his story of the great typhoon.

Presently, a chance came to address her.

"Grace tells me that your name is an odd one, for a girl--woman, I mean--Tennyson. Were you named for the poet?"

"Yes. My father knew him well. Odd, isn't it? My friends call me Lady Tennys. By the way, you have not told Grace what I told you last night on deck, have you?" she asked.

"I should say not. Does she suspect that you know her secret and mine?"

he asked in return.

"She does not dream that I know. Ah, I believe I am beginning to learn what love is. I worship your sweetheart, Hugh Ridgeway."

"If you could love as she loves me, Lady Huntingford, you might know what love really is."

"What a strange thing it must be that you and she can know it and I cannot," she mused, looking wistfully at the land afar off.

At Aden everybody went ash.o.r.e while the ship coaled at Steamer Point, on the western side of the rock, three miles from the town proper.

Mult.i.tudes of Jewish ostrich-feather merchants and Somali boys gave the travellers amus.e.m.e.nt at the landing and in the coast part of the town.

The Americans began to breathe what Hugh called a genuinely oriental atmosphere.

They were far from Aden when night came down and with it the most gorgeous sunset imaginable. Everybody was on deck. The sky was aflame, the waters blazed and all the world seemed about to be swept up in the wondrous conflagration. Late in the afternoon a bank of clouds had grown up from the western line, and as the sun dropped behind them they glowed with the intensity of fiercely fanned coals of huge dimensions. At last the fiery hues faded away, the giant holocaust of the skies drew to an end, and the soft afterglow spread across the dome, covering it with a tranquil beauty more sublime than words can paint.

Grace looked eagerly among the impressed spectators for Henry Veath.

Somehow she longed for him to see all this beauty that had given her so much pleasure. He was not there and she was conscious of a guilty depression. She was sitting with Hugh and Lady Huntingford when, long afterward, Veath approached.

"I'd like a word with you, Hugh," he said after the greetings, "when the ladies have gone below."

"It is getting late and I am really very tired," said Grace. It was quite dark, or they could have seen that her face was pale and full of concern. She knew instinctively what it was that Veath wanted to say to Hugh. Then she did something she had never done before in the presence of another. She walked quickly to Hugh's side, bent over and kissed his lips, almost as he gasped in astonishment.

"Good-night, dear," she said, quite audibly, and was gone with Lady Huntingford. The astounded lover was some time in recovering from the surprise inspired by her unexpected act. It was the first time she had ever been sisterly in that fashion before the eyes of others.

"I hope I have said nothing to offend them," said Veath miserably. "Was I too abrupt?"

"Not in the least. They've seen enough for one night anyhow, and I guess they were only waiting for an excuse to go below," replied Hugh. To himself he said, "I wonder what the d.i.c.kens Grace did that for? And why was Lady Huntingford so willing to leave?"

Veath sat nervously wriggling his thumbs, plainly ill at ease. His jaw was set, however, and there was a look in his eyes which signified a determination to brave it out.

"You know me pretty well by this time, Hugh," he said. Hugh awoke from his abstraction and displayed immediate interest. "You know that I am straightforward and honest, if nothing else. There is also in my make-up a pride which you may never have observed or suspected, and it is of this that I want to speak before attempting to say something which will depend altogether upon the way you receive the introduction."

"Go ahead, Henry. You're serious to-night, and I can see that something heavy is upon your mind."

"It is a very serious matter, I can a.s.sure you. Well, as you perhaps know from my remarks or allusions on previous occasions, I am a poor devil. I have nothing on earth but the salary I can earn, and you can guess what that will amount to in Manila. My father educated me as best he could, and I worked my way through college after he had given me to understand that he was unable to send me there himself. When I was graduated, I accepted a position with a big firm in its engineering service. Within a year I was notified that I could have a five months'

lay-off, as they call it. At the end of that period, if matters improved, I was to have my place back. Out of my wages I saved a couple of hundred dollars, but it dwindled as I drifted through weeks of idleness. There was nothing for me to do, try as I would to find a place. It was a hard pill to swallow, after four years of the kind of work I had done in college, but I had to throw every plan to the winds and go to the Philippines. My uncle, who is rich, sent me money enough to prepare for the voyage, and here I am, sneaking off to the jungles, disgusted, discouraged and disappointed. To-night I sit before you with less than one hundred dollars as the sum total of my earthly possessions."

"By George, Veath, just let me know how much you need--" broke in Hugh warmly, but the other silenced him, smiling sadly.

"I'm greatly obliged to you, but I don't believe it is money that I want now--at least, not borrowed money. When you told me that your sister was to become a missionary, I inferred that you were not burdened with worldly goods, and I felt at home with you both--more so than I should, I believe--"

"Oh, the devil!"

"But a few days ago your sister told me that she is not to be a missionary and that she is rich enough to make this trip to the Orient for mere pleasure--oh, well, you know better than I how rich you both are." His voice was low and unsteady. "I don't know why you should have told me that she--she was to be a missionary."

"It was--I did it for a little joke on her, honestly I did," mumbled Hugh.

"And it was a serious one for me. Before I knew of her real position she seemed more approachable to me, more as if I could claim her friendship on the grounds of mutual sympathy. I was deceived into believing our lots not vastly unequal, and I have suffered more than I can tell you by the disparity which I now know exists."

"But what difference can it make whether we are rich or poor? We can still be friends," said Hugh eagerly.

"It was when I believed your sister to be a missionary that I learned to love her better than all else in this world. Now do you understand?"

"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 pa.s.s 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 G.o.d that I could call you brother," said he.

"Don't say it! It is too wild an improbability," cried Veath.

"Yes; it is more than that: it is an impossibility."

"If in the end I should conclude to tell Miss Ridge of my feelings, will you tell me now that I may do so with your permission?"

"But there is no hope," cried Hugh miserably.

"I do not ask for hope. I shall not ask her to love me or to be my wife.

I may want to tell her that I love her, that's all. You can have no objection to that, Hugh."

"I have no objection," murmured Ridgeway, a chill striking deep into his heart.