“Thank God, I see you at last, darling!” he exclaimed, passionately, as he held out his arms. But to his amazement she drew back, warding off his embrace with a hand that was firm, strong, and cold as ice.
“You must go--you must never come again!” she said, in a voice filled with suffering.
The little wood-house was between them and the cottage, and some tall trees bordering the little street threw a shadow over them.
“But, darling, what's the matter?” he cried. “What has changed you so remarkably? Why, little girl--”
“Do you mean, you haven't--haven't _heard?_” She clutched the shawl under her marble-like chin and stared at him, her pretty lips parted and quivering piteously.
“Heard what?” he asked. “I have heard nothing--certainly no _bad_ news. I've been away for a week, and only came home this evening.”
She lowered her head, and stood silent and motionless. He put his hand on her shoulder and gently shook her.
“Tell me,” he urged, groping for an explanation of her agitation, “is your mother ill again? Is she worse?”
“No, it isn't that--God knows even that would be a blessing. Kenneth, I'm ruined!”
“You don't mean?--you _can't_ mean?--” He stood aghast before her, quivering now from head to foot.
“Yes, there is no doubt of it. Mother suspected it, and was so miserable that I had to admit the truth. It almost drove her crazy. She was talking to me about it when that meddlesome woman, Mrs. Chumley, came in and overheard it. She lost no time in spreading the report broadcast over town. Everybody has known it for several days.”
“Oh, my God!” Galt pronounced the words in his throat. This thing, of all unexpected things, had burst upon him at the very crisis of his triumph, and it would ruin him--there was no denying that; it would ruin him! In his fancy he saw his hitherto irreproachable character torn to shreds by the men and women who, till now, had stood behind him. The dream of his life might be carried out some day, but not by a man of his stamp. He groaned aloud. For the moment it was impossible for him to show sympathy where sympathy most belonged. He stood as a man stands who loves life, and yet has been condemned to death. Love and the capacity for self-sacrifice in Kenneth Galt were best nourished by hope and happiness, and of these things he was now bereft.