er, 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 pass 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 God that I could call you brother," said he.

"Don't say it! It is too wild an