"O Charles, I'm so glad you've come--so very glad!" she exclaimed
almost breathlessly; "and I've so much to tell you that I hardly know
where to begin. How good God is to send you to me now, just when I need
you most!"
"So you find that you can't do without me altogether? That's grand
news. How I've longed for this hour! If I'd had my own way I would have
exploded the boilers in my haste to reach port to see you again. It was
real good of you to come, and not send for me. Come Annie, celebrate my
return by the promise that you will soon make a home for me. I am happy
to say that I can now give you the means of making it a princely one."
"I haven't the time nor the heart to think about that now, Charles.
Father is very ill. I'm exceedingly anxious about him."
"Indeed!" said Hunting, "that is bad news;" and yet his grief was not
very deep, for he thought, "If she is left alone she will come to me at
once."
"What is more," cried Annie, a little hurt at the quiet manner in which
he received her tidings, "suppose, instead of meeting me strong and
well, you had found me a crushed and lifeless corpse to-night?"
"Annie," he said, "what do you mean?"
"I mean that this would have been true but for one with whom I am sorry
you are on bad terms. Walter Gregory is at our house."
He gave a great start at the mention of this name, and even in the deep
twilight his face seemed very white.
"I don't understand," he almost gasped.
"I knew you would be deeply affected," said the unsuspicious Annie. "He
stood between me and death to-day, and it may cost him his own life. He
was severely injured--how badly we can hardly tell yet;" and she
rapidly related all that had occurred. "And now, Charles," she
concluded, "no matter what he may have done, or how deeply he may have
wronged you, I'm sure you'll do everything in your power to effect a
complete reconciliation, and cement a lasting friendship. If possible,
you must become his untiring nurse. How much you owe him!"
She noticed that he was trembling. After a moment he asked,
hesitatingly, "Has he--how long has he been here, did you say?"
"About three weeks. You know our place was his old home, and his father
was a very dear friend of my father."
"If I knew it I had forgotten it," he answered, with a chill of fear
growing deeper every moment. "Did he--has he said anything about our
difficulties?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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