"You must wear this, now, and keep the forget-me-not for a guard."
He held her hand, that wore the ring, in one of his, and there was a flash of diamonds as he brought the other toward it.
Then Faith gave a quick, strange cry.
"I can't! I can't! Oh, Paul! don't ask me!" And her hand was drawn from the clasp of his, and her face was hidden in both her own.
Paul drew back—hurt, silent.
"If I could only wait!" she murmured. "I don't dare, yet!"
She could wear the forget-me-not, as she wore the memory of all their long young friendship, it belonged to the past; but this definite pledge for the future—these diamonds!
"Do you not quite belong to me, even yet?" asked Paul, with a resentment, yet a loving and patient one, in his voice.
"I told you," said Faith, "that I would try—to be to you as you wish; but Paul! if I couldn't be so, truly?—I don't know why I feel so uncertain. Perhaps it is because you care for me too much. Your thought for me is so great, that mine, when I look at it, never seems worthy."
Paul was a man. He could not sue, too cringingly, even for Faith Gartney's love.