. "I must not be keeping you," he
said, but it seemed as if he could not go. He stood looking down at
her and she could not mistake the look in Gavin's eyes. Her own fell
before them.

"Oh," she managed to whisper, "I have always wanted to tell you that I
think it is so brave and so grand of you to go, and, ... oh, I hope
you'll come back safe," she ended, faltering, and Gavin still stood
unable to speak and looked at her as if he could never take his eyes
away.

The loud, slow tick of the old clock marked off the minutes.

Suddenly Gavin put his fingers under the collar of his coat. "Could
you--would you mind taking this as a little keepsake?" he whispered,
handing her the regimental pin of the Blue Bonnets. She took it with
grateful thanks.

And then a sudden impulse came to her.

"But, I ought to give you something in return."

She looked up and down her dress. She wore no ornament but an
old-fashioned brooch of her mother's fastening the throat of her soft
blue dress. "I haven't anything," she said helplessly. She followed
Gavin's eyes that were fastened on her left hand.

"Could you spare me that?" he whispered. It was a little old ring, one
that Allister had sent her before he came home for his first visit,
just plain gold with her initials carved on it. Christina slipped it
off her finger eagerly.

"Oh, it's just a poor little, old thing, Gavin, but I'd be so proud to
have it go to the war," she cried. He took it, his face radiant.

"Oh," he cried, "I ought not to have asked you. I was too bold,
perhaps, I shouldn't--perhaps--he,--wouldn't like it?"

Christina's face flamed. "There is no one who has any right to say
what I should do," she said with sudden boldness.

Gavin's face lit up. He slipped the ring on his little finger. It
would hardly go on, but he managed it. A line of the old song he had
sung flashed through Christina's mind as he did it, something about the
plighted ring the warrior wore, being crushed and wet with gore.

"Oh, Gavin," she whispered, the tears welling up into her eyes, "God
bless you, and bring you home safe again."

A sharp whistle sounded from the gate where Hughie Reid was waiting
impatiently in the rain. Gavin started as if from a dream. He held
out his hand. "Good-bye, Christine," he whispered, "you won't forget
me, will you?"

Christina put her hand into his. She shook her head; she could not
answer. He was going away, perhaps to his death,