"What is it?" asked Brooke, who could not see in the gloom what it was that she offered.
"A ring," said Talbot, in a voice that had sunk to a whisper.
"A ring," repeated Brooke. "Is it your ring, Talbot? Then put it on my finger with your own hands, comrade, and I swear to you by a soldier's word that it shall never leave me, either in life or death."
Talbot made no reply, but put the ring, which she had detached from her own finger, upon the little finger of Brooke's left hand.
Not a word was said by either, and there was now a long silence, which was finally broken by Brooke.
"Talbot," said he, "don't you think you can sleep a little?"
"I'll try."
"Do. If you could only sleep a little, I should feel very glad indeed."
"I'll try," said Talbot again, "and you must not suppose that I am awake."
Talbot now drew off for a little distance, while Brooke remained as before, and was left to his own meditations. All was still within, and outside the sounds gradually lessened, until at length they were heard no more. Slowly the time passed, and to Brooke it had never in his life seemed so long. Not a sound escaped from Talbot. Was she asleep?