“But he pins it instead upon yours—which is quite as public. Ah, Richard, she is a sad dare-devil!” and she went on to tell him of some of the scenes of the past months. He had feared for her from the first, and in his mother’s parlour he caught her arm almost fiercely:—
“Are you mad that you jeopardize yourself in this way?”
“Mistress Strudwick is over-alarmed; I can take care of myself,” she answered, a trifle hotly.
But he was not satisfied; one word brought on another, and they were nearly quarrelling when Betty came to say his dinner was ready.
“Joscelyn,” he whispered, with a sudden softening of manner as they went down the hall, and he took her hand and laid in it a shining gold piece, “this is all the gold I have in the world; it was to have paid the price of my flight, but the fisherwoman would not have it. Keep it for me till the war is done—I have a special purpose for it.”
After dinner the neighbours came with their letters and farewells, and he had no further talk alone with Joscelyn. She bade him a very gentle good-by, however, and ran across to her own balcony opposite, while he comforted his mother and Betty and said farewell to the assembled friends. When he was mounted and had waved them a last adieu, he made his horse curvet as though loath to start, and so brought up close to the rail of the opposite balcony.
“Joscelyn, keep the gold piece safe and in some hallowed place, for when the war is done it shall be made into our wedding ring—’tis for that I saved it. Good-by, sweetheart.”
And then he was gone as he had come, with a free rein and a ringing hoof beat; and the crowd behind broke into small groups to discuss the news he had brought, while the girl leaning on the veranda across the way, turned a shining coin in her hand, looking at it pensively, with a curious light in her eyes.