"Forgiven you, dearest!" I exclaimed. "There is nothing to forgive.
And we are friends, Ruth. Whatever happens, you are the dearest friend
I have on earth, or can ever have."
"Thank you, Paul," she said faintly. "You are very good to me. But let me go, please. I must be alone."
She held out a trembling hand, and, as I took it, I was shocked to see how terribly agitated and ill she looked.
"May I not come with you, dear?" I pleaded.
"No, no!" she exclaimed breathlessly; "I must go away by myself. I want to be alone. Good-by."
"Before I let you go, Ruth—if you must go—I must have a most solemn promise from you."
Her sad gray eyes met mine and her lips quivered with an unspoken question.
"You must promise me," I went on, "that if ever this barrier that parts us should be removed, you will let me know instantly. Remember that I love you always, and that I am waiting for you always on this side of the grave."
She caught her breath in a quick little sob, and pressed my hand.
"Yes," she whispered: "I promise. Good-by."