"Now read what you have written, so that we can all hear what you promise, and remember it when you are away."
After some bashful hesitation, Frank took courage, and read. A long silence followed. Little Hattie on the lounge was crying.
"But you ought to keep this—for I make the promise to you," he said, reflecting that he had used his own Testament to write in.
"No, you are to keep it," said his mother, "for I'm afraid we shall remember your promise a great deal better than you will."
"No, you won't!" cried Frank, full of resolution. "I shall keep that promise to the letter."
Mrs. Manly took the Testament, read over the pledge carefully, and wrote under it a little prayer.
"Now," said she, "go to your room, and read there what I have written. Then go to bed, and try to sleep. We all need rest—for to-morrow."
"O! and you give your consent?"
"My son," said Mrs. Manly, holding his hand, and looking into his face with affectionate, misty eyes, "it is right that you should do something for your family, for we need your help. Your little sister is sick, your father is feeble, and I—my hand may fail any day. And it is right that you should wish to do something for your country; and, but that you are so young, so very young, I should not have opposed you at all. As it is, I shall not oppose you any more. Think of it well, if you have not done so already. Consider the hardships, the dangers—every thing. Then decide for yourself. I intrust you, I give you into the hands of our heavenly Father."
She folded him to her heart, kissing him and weeping. Frank then kissed his sisters good-night, his resolution almost failing him, and his heart almost bursting with the thought that this might be the last evening he would ever be with them, or kiss them good-night.