“Yes.” He dared not look at her.
“It is for the best,” she said. He answered nothing.
The groom came to the door and said: “I beg your pardon, sir, but the train is due now, sir.”
“Very well, I’m coming.”
She gave two sharp little indrawn gasps. Then, speaking very quickly, she said: “Wear this. My mother gave it to me when I was confirmed. When she died I took it off because it reminded me of her and it made me cry. It is sacred to me. It is all I can give you. I am sure she would not blame me—” She paused and looked at him questioningly.
“No,” he answered, reverently.
“Take it!” She held a little ring, a plain gold band, toward him, and he took it and with some difficulty placed it on his little finger.
“Good-bye!” she said.
He looked at her imploringly. His lips dared not utter what his eyes told so plainly. It was a request, nothing more, but she shook her head.
“Good-bye,” she repeated, extending her hand.