“Don’t, don’t say that!” Alison looked at him in alarm. “Is it going to be very, very dangerous?”
“Not more so than any other undertaking. Not as much so as going to war or as heaps of Injun fights.”
“Oh, then, I don’t feel so badly as if it were something worse. And what is it I can give you?”
He took both her hands, the ring clasped between them. “You can give me one kiss to remember,” he said very gravely, very tenderly.
She dropped her eyes to the strong muscular hands enfolding hers. Over her came a partial realization of what he was about to do for her sake, of what he might have to endure before she should see him again. She lifted her face as a child might and he kissed her gently. Then he released her hands and stood looking at her. The red blood rushed to her cheeks. She seemed so young, so innocent, that he felt a reverence for her as truly as did any knight for his lady.
At this moment Christine’s voice was heard calling:
“Alison, Alison, where are you?”
“Oh, I must go,” murmured the girl. And still clasping her ring she caught the limb of the tree, found her foothold and reached the road, leaving Neal to follow.
She held out the ring in her palm when she came up to her sister standing on the step. “See, see, my present,” she said exultantly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Christine took the ring and examined it carefully. Then she looked at the girl searchingly, but Alison’s eager face showed no consciousness.