“It is not what I would do, what I would say, Anthony.  The charge is given by the Spirit of God:  ’Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life.’”

He took her hand and kissed it passionately.

“That crown will I win, my Freda,” he cried, “for I will be faithful unto death!”

There was a curious mingling of tenderness and admiration in the glance she bent upon him.  He was a goodly youth to look at, tall and strongly knit in figure, upright as a young spruce fir, with a keen, dark-skinned face, square in outline and with a peculiar mobility of expression.  The eyes were black and sparkling, and the thick, short, curling hair was sombre as the raven’s wing.  There was no lack of intellect in the face, but the chief characteristic was its eager intensity of ever-changing expression.

The girl facing him was as straight and almost as tall as he, but slender and graceful as a young deer.  Her hood had fallen back from her chestnut locks, which glistened in the sunshine like burnished copper.  Her eyes were of a curious tawny tint, not unlike the colour of her hair, and her complexion was delicately fair, just tinged with rose colour at the cheeks, but of a creamy pallor elsewhere.  Her features were delicate and regular, and she, too, was remarkable for the look of intellect in the broad brow and deep, steadfast eyes.

Their expression at this moment, as they were fixed upon Dalaber, was one which thrilled him to his heart’s core.

He had been filled with a passion of self renunciation inspired by her words.  But as he gazed into her eyes, something more personal, more human, sprang up within him.  He put his lips once more to the hand he held, and his voice shook as he said: 

“Freda, I love thee!  I love only thee!”

She did not answer.  She did not withdraw her hand.  Perhaps she had known this thing before Dalaber spoke the words.  She stood before him, looking very earnestly and tenderly into his eyes.  It was scarcely the look of a young maiden who is being wooed by the man she loves; and yet there was love in that unfaltering glance, and his heart leapt up as he saw it.

“I ask nothing yet, Freda!” he cried—­“at least, I ask only the right to love thee!  Let me continue to be thy friend, thy companion, as before.  Let me see thee and speak with thee as of old.  Be thou my star and my guardian angel.  I ask no more.  I am but a poor student yet, but I will be more one day.  Others have said so beside myself.  I will rise to fame and fortune.  And thou—­if thou dost love me, even a little—­thou wilt wait, and see what I can do and dare for thy sweet sake!”

She smiled her full, gracious smile at him, and again laid a hand upon his shoulder.

“Be ever true to thine own noblest self, Anthony Dalaber,” she answered, in her rich, musical tones—­“be true to thy conscience and to thy friends.  Be steadfast and true; and that not for my sake, but for His in whose holy name we are called, and to whose service we are bound.  Be faithful, be true; and whether for life or for death, thy reward will be assured.”