“For God’s sake keep it!” he pleaded.
“No, I promised Mama for peace sake I would return it. She is very weak. I could not dare to hurt her now with a broken promise. She may not live long. I could never forgive myself. Keep it for me, dear, until I can wear it.”
She placed it in his hand and it burnt like a red hot coal. He placed it in an inside pocket next to his heart. It felt like a huge millstone crushing him. A lump rose in his throat and choked him until he gasped for breath.
She looked at him pathetically and saw his anguish.
“Come, my love,” she pleaded reproachfully, “you must not make it harder for me. You are a man. You are stronger than I am. Love is more my whole life than it can be yours. For this cruel thing I have said and done, you may press on my lips another kiss. If I am disobedient to my mother’s wishes God will forgive me.”
The train blew the long deep call for its hundred mile stop and they both rose, he took her hands in his.
“You have promised not to write to me, dear, but I have made no promise. I will write to you as often as I can send you a cheerful message,” he said.
“It is so sweet of you!”
“You have the little love-token still?” he asked.
“Yes, in my bosom. I feel it warm and throbbing with your love, and it shall not be taken from me in the grave!”