and laughing at them.

"I shall not go one step, even now, unless you promise to write
regularly, Annet," said Rast, the evening before his departure, as they
stood together on the old piazza of the Agency watching for the lights
of the steamer which was to carry him away.

"Of course I shall write, Rast; once a week always."

"No; I wish no set times fixed. You are simply to promise that you will
immediately answer every letter _I_ write."

"I will answer; but as to the time--I may not always be able--"

"You may if you choose; and I will not go unless you promise," said
Rast, with irritation. "Do you want to spoil everything, my education
and all my future? I would not be so selfish, Annet, if I were you. What
is it I ask? A trifle. I have no father, no mother, no sister; only you.
I am going away for the first time in my life, and you grudge me a
letter!"

"Not a letter, Rast, but a promise; lest I might not be able to fulfill
it. I only meant that something might happen in the house which would
keep me from answering within the hour, and then my promise would be
broken. I will always answer as soon as I can."

"You will not fail me, then?"

The girl held out her hand and clasped his with a warm, honest pressure;
he turned and looked at her in the starlight. "God bless you for your
dear sincere eyes!" he said. "The devil himself would believe you."

"I hope he would," said Anne, smiling.

What with Miss Lois's Calvinism, and the terrific picture of his Satanic
Majesty at the death-bed of the wicked in the old Catholic church, the
two, as children, had often talked about the devil and his
characteristics, Rast being sure that some day he should see him. Miss
Lois, overhearing this, agreed with the lad dryly, much to Anne's
dismay.

"What is the use of the devil?" she had once demanded.

"To punish the wicked," answered Miss Lois.

"Does he enjoy it?"

"I suppose he does."

"Then he must be very wicked himself?"

"He is."

"Who created him?"

"You know as well as I do, Anne. God created him, of course."

"Well," said the child, after a silence, going as usual to the root of
the matter, "I don't think _I_ should have made him at all if I couldn't
have made him better."

The next morning the sun rose as usual, but Rast was gone. Anne felt a
loneliness she had never felt before in all her life. For Rast had been
her companion; hardly a day had passed without his step on the piazza,
his voice in