“Iona, dear, you look too tired to go up there alone to-night,” she said. “Wait till morning, and no one shall come near you, nor even know that you are here.”
“I should suffocate here!” Iona exclaimed impatiently.
Elena urged her no farther. “At least, make me a sign in the morning that you are well,” she said. “Tie a white cloth to the terrace post.”
“Yes, yes! Don’t fear!”
She went out. It was twilight, and the windows were beginning to be lighted. In the Square she saw Ion going toward the college. She drew the silver whistle from her sash and blew his name.
The boy stopped, then came running back.
“I am going up the hills to stay to-night,” his sister said, holding him in her arms. “Don’t tell any one, unless Dylar should ask you. And see! I have a gift for you. It is a little ball of pure gold. Say nothing of it even to Dylar till I tell you. Keep it as a memento of San Salvador when you are far away. And now, good-night, my treasure, my better than gold!”
She kissed him tenderly.
“O Iona, why do you go up there to-night?” the boy cried. “What is the matter?”
She freed herself from him gently, but decidedly. “Don’t oppose me, Ion. Do as I bid you, and say good-night now.”