“Paul! Paul! You are going away! I know! I heard!”
Flinging himself from the saddle Paul was at her side, and holding her hands in his stood silent, fighting to hold himself steady.
“You are going away, Paul!” Again came the pitiful cry.
“Oh, Peggy! dear Peggy! I must go, I must go. Uncle Colonel, take her away, take her away. Good-bye, Peggy.”
Her father touched her arm. “Come, Peggy,” he said quietly. “Paul must go.”
“Daddy! Daddy!” she cried. “He’ll never come back!”
“Peggy, listen to me,” said the boy, once more speaking in a man’s voice. “I shall come back to you. Remember what I say. And, Uncle Colonel, you remember too, I am coming back. And, Peggy, I’ll never, never forget.” He turned once more to mount.
“Paul,” the child’s voice was sharp with grief, “you didn’t—say—good-bye.”
The boy stood hesitating, then came to the Colonel. His man’s pose fell from him.
“Uncle Colonel,” he said, his voice quivering pitifully, “good-bye.” He put out his arms, the Colonel drew him to his breast and kissed him on the cheek twice.