still and pale she fought against the sweetness of the truth he was
forcing upon her.

"Please--go away," she whispered.

He rose to his feet. "I shall not give you up."

She rose also, a frail little thing in her floating draperies, and laid
her hand lightly on his arm.

"There are things which I cannot tell you. But I need a friend. If you
care for me you'll let me be your--little sister; you won't trouble me
by saying such things as you have said--to-night."

He tried with all the strength of his young manhood to hide his own hurt
and meet her need.

"I could kill myself for making you cry. I'm going to be good now.
Really and truly your good big brother."

She glanced up at him with charming shyness.

"I'll forget the things that you have said to-night--if you won't say
them again."

"I shall not tie myself to an impossible promise," he repeated, "but I
am going to tie you to a promise."

"Me?" She faced him.

"Yes. Oh, see here," boyishly, "I brought something for you to-night. I
have noticed that you don't wear rings, but I want you to wear this." He
opened his hand and showed her, lying on the palm, a little silver ring.
"It's just a simple trinket that my sister wore as a child. I'd like to
think that it would tie you to me always--for remembrance. I had hoped
that you would let me give you another some time. But this--why, you
can't object to wearing it--and it would mean a lot to me if you
would----"

Her slender fingers touched it. "How sweet of you to think of it----"

"Then you'll wear it?"

"Yes--because you are--my friend."

He took her hand in his and fitting the slender band first on one finger
and then on another found a place for it at last on the little finger of
her left hand.

"With this ring," he said, softly, "I take you always--for my
friend----"

Then he stood looking down at her. "What a lovely little thing you are,"
he said. "You're so tiny that I could pick you up and carry you off, yet
I tremble when I touch your hand."

She drew a quick short breath.

"You aren't to say such things to me--you know."

"I'll be good."

She knelt down like a child on the hearth-rug, and held her hand forward
so that the light of the fire might shine on the silver circlet.

"Why, it's engraved," she said, "with two hearts."

"Yes," he said; "your heart and mine."

As she bent forward, the thin chain which she wore about her neck swung
forward from among the laces of her gown,