“That was very sweet, Monica,” he said gently. “I have never heard it before; [223]but you make it sound so unutterably sad.”

[223]

She looked up at him wistfully.

“I think sad songs are always sweetest—they are more like life, at least.”

His eyes were very full of tenderness; she saw it, and it almost unmanned her.

“I am so tired, Randolph; will you take me home? The carriage will not be here, but it is such a little way. I should like best to walk.”

A very few moments later they were out in the warm, spring air, under the twinkling stars. She held his arm closely. Her hand trembled a little, he fancied. He drew her light lace wrap more closely round her, thinking she felt chilled. At this little mark of thoughtfulness she looked up at him with a tremulous smile.

[224]

[224]

“I shall miss you when you are gone, Randolph,” she said, softly. “You will not be long away?”

His heart beat high, but his words were very quietly spoken.

“No Monica, only four or five days.”

“And you will take care of yourself? You will come back safe—you will not get into any danger!”

“Why no,” he answered with a smile. “Danger! What are you thinking about, Monica?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes my heart is very heavy. It is heavy to-night. Promise you will take care of yourself—for my sake.”

Randolph did not, after all, go away quite comfortless.

END OF VOL. I.

Transcriber's Notes

Minor punctuation and printer errors repaired.

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