He sprang up in his chair. "You--YOU going?"

"Time I did," she laughed. "I haven't set eyes on my property and my
two sisters since goodness knows when." He held out his shaking hands.
His face was working pitifully.

"Debbie, Debbie," he wailed, like a lost child, "will you take me? Will
you have me?"

She caught him in her strong arms.

"Dearest, we will go together," she murmured. And he fell, sobbing, on
her breast.

It was not in the least what she had meant to say or to do; but
the appeal was irresistible. It was too terrible to see him--HIM, her
young prince of such towering pride and beauty--brought down to this.

But she soon had him out of his slough of despond, and climbing the
hills of hope again with something of his old gallant air. The rapidity
of his convalescence was astonishing. By the end of July he was well
enough to be married.




CHAPTER XXVI.