"If the promise was freely given, no sin committed in its keeping, and no peace troubled but one's own, I should say yes."
Still pausing, he looked down at her with that unquiet glance as she looked up with her steady one, and with the same anxiety he asked—
"Would you keep such a promise inviolate, even though it might cost you the sacrifice of something dearer to you than your life?"
She thought again, and again looked up, answering with the sincerity that he had taught her—
"It might be unwise, but if the sacrifice was not one of principle or something that I ought to love more than life, I think I should keep the promise as religiously as an Indian keeps a vow of vengeance."
As she spoke, some recollection seemed to strike Warwick like a sudden stab. The flush died out of his face, the fire from his eyes, and an almost grim composure fell upon him as he said low to himself, with a forward step as if eager to leave some pain behind him—
"It is better so; for his sake I will leave all to time."
Sylvia saw his lips move, but caught no sound till he said with a gravity that was almost gloom—
"I think you would; therefore, beware how you bind yourself with such verbal bonds. Let us go in."
They went; Warwick to the drawing-room, but Sylvia ran up stairs for the Berlin wools, which in spite of heat and the sure staining of fingers were to be wound that night according to contract, for she kept a small promise as sacredly as she would have done a greater one.