“I know! Thank you, Norah.” Rex turned his head aside quickly, but Norah saw that he was trembling with emotion, and waited in awed suspense for his next words.
“Norah—it is a long time—three years—five years—I can’t tell which it may be. I shall think of you all the time. There never will be anyone else for me; but it will be different with you. You will meet new friends up in London. There will be other fellows—better than I am—who will care for you too. Perhaps when I come back you may be married too!”
“No, Rex, don’t be afraid. I am not like that. I never forget.”
He gripped her hand, but made no answer, and they stood together in a silence which was sweet to both, despite the rain, the gloom, the coming separation. Norah was the first to find her voice.
“You will write home often; and we will send you all the news. The time will soon pass, and you will enjoy the life and the strange new country.” She looked into his face with a flickering smile. ... “They say there’s bread and work for all, and the sun shines always there...”
“But I’ll not forget you, darling, be it fifty times as fair!” came the answer, in a strained, hoarse whisper. Poor, shy Rex! Even at the moment of parting it was agony to him to speak that word of endearment, and having said it, he was consumed with embarrassment. Norah was still tingling with delight, when her hand was seized in a painful grip, a gruff “Good-bye, Norah!” sounded in her ears, and she was left alone in the garden path.
She put up her hands to her face and sobbed in helpless misery.
“Oh, Rex, Rex! Five long, long years! Oh, God, be good to my boy—take care of him! Bring him back safe and well!”