“Only one daughter near her, David:  I shall enlist when you do,” said Christie, resolutely.

“You mean it?”

“I mean it as honestly as you do.  I knew you would go:  I saw you getting ready, and I made up my mind to follow.  I, too, have prepared for it, and even spoken to Mrs. Amory.  She has gone as matron of a hospital, and promised to find a place for me when I was ready.  The day you enlist I shall write and tell her I am ready.”

There was fire in Christie’s eyes and a flush on her cheek now, as she stood up with the look of a woman bent on doing well her part.  David caught her hands in his, regardless of the ominous bandages they held, and said, with tender admiration and reproach in his voice: 

“You wouldn’t marry me when I asked you this summer, fearing you would be a burden to me; but now you want to share hardship and danger with me, and support me by the knowledge of your nearness.  Dear, ought I to let you do it?”

“You will let me do it, and in return I will marry you whenever you ask me,” answered Christie, sealing the promise with a kiss that silenced him.

He had been anxious to be married long ago, but when he asked Mr. Power to make him happy, a month after his engagement, that wise friend said to them: 

“I don’t advise it yet.  You have tried and proved one another as friends, now try and prove one another as lovers; then, if you feel that all is safe and happy, you will be ready for the greatest of the three experiments, and then in God’s name marry.”

“We will,” they said, and for a year had been content, studying one another, finding much to love, and something to learn in the art of bearing and forbearing.

David had begun to think they had waited long enough, but Christie still delayed, fearing she was not worthy, and secretly afflicted by the thought of her poverty.  She had so little to give in return for all she received that it troubled her, and she was sometimes tempted to ask Uncle Enos for a modest marriage portion.  She never had yet, and now resolved to ask nothing, but to earn her blessing by doing her share in the great work.

“I shall remember that,” was all David answered to that last promise of hers, and three months later he took her at her word.

For a week or two they went on in the old way; Christie did her housework with her head full of new plans, read books on nursing, made gruel, plasters, and poultices, till Mrs. Sterling pronounced her perfect; and dreamed dreams of a happy time to come when peace had returned, and David was safe at home with all the stars and bars a man could win without dying for them.

David set things in order, conferred with Bennet, petted his womankind, and then hurried away to pack boxes of stores, visit camps, and watch departing regiments with a daily increasing certainty that his time had come.

One September day he went slowly home, and, seeing Christie in the garden, joined her, helped her finish matting up some delicate shrubs, put by the tools, and when all was done said with unusual gentleness: