‘You mustn’t waste your life thinking of me, Irene. I shall remember every word you have spoken. I shall treasure every word. I hope I shall do my duty.’
‘I am sure of that,’ she answered. And then for a long time not a word was spoken, and when at length they broke silence, they spoke of things which were indifferent by comparison. They discussed the probable hour of the arrival of the route, the probable destination of the regiment, the time at which Polson might expect to escape his drill.
At last the General appeared walking side by side with Colonel Stacey. Irene was facing that way, and was naturally the first to see him.
‘Here is good-bye, dear,’ she said. ‘Papa is coming.’
‘Good-bye,’ he said softly. ‘Good-bye. God bless you.’
‘God bless you, too,’ said Irene. She held out her little gloved hand to him, and he took it in his own. She looked bravely into his eyes, and they spoke their last farewell without a sign of tremor.
‘This,’ said the General, advancing as Polson turned away, ‘is the young fellow of whom I have been speaking. Polson, this is your commanding officer, Colonel Stacey.’ Polson raised his cap and bowed civilian fashion.
‘Ah!’ said the jolly colonel, turning his red face and twinkling eyes on the recruit.
‘You are Polson Jervase? Joined this morning, eh? I hear an excellent account of you. Try to deserve it. I shall remember you. Good morning.’
But as Polson saluted again, and turned to go, the General seized him by the hand and shook it warmly.