“My precious people, I’ve got something to tell you:  are you ready?”

They knew what it was without a word.  Mrs. Sterling clasped her hands and bowed her head.  Letty turned pale and dropped her work; but Christie’s eyes kindled, as she answered with a salute: 

“Ready, my General.”

“We are ordered off at once, and go at four this afternoon.  I’ve got a three hours’ leave to say good-by in.  Now, let’s be brave and enjoy every minute of it.”

“We will:  what can I do for you, Davy?” asked Christie, wonderfully supported by the thought that she was going too.

“Keep your promise, dear,” he answered, while the warlike expression changed to one of infinite tenderness.

“What promise?”

“This;” and he held out his hand with a little paper in it.  She saw it was a marriage license, and on it lay a wedding-ring.  She did not hesitate an instant, but laid her own hand in his, and answered with her heart in her face: 

“I’ll keep it, David.”

“I knew you would!” then holding her close he said in a tone that made it very hard for her to keep steady, as she had vowed she would do to the last:  “I know it is much to ask, but I want to feel that you are mine before I go.  Not only that, but it will be a help and protection to you, dear, when you follow.  As a married woman you will get on better, as my wife you will be allowed to come to me if I need you, and as my”—­he stopped there, for he could not add—­“as my widow you will have my pension to support you.”

She understood, put both arms about his neck as if to keep him safe, and whispered fervently: 

“Nothing can part us any more, not even death; for love like ours will last for ever.”

“Then you are quite willing to try the third great experiment?”

“Glad and proud to do it.”  “With no doubt, no fear, to mar your consent.”  “Not one, David.”  “That’s true love, Christie!”

Then they stood quite still for a time, and in the silence the two hearts talked together in the sweet language no tongue can utter.  Presently David said regretfully: 

“I meant it should be so different.  I always planned that we’d be married some bright summer day, with many friends about us; then take a happy little journey somewhere together, and come back to settle down at home in the dear old way.  Now it’s all so hurried, sorrowful, and strange.  A dull November day; no friends but Mr. Power, who will be here soon; no journey but my march to Washington alone; and no happy coming home together in this world perhaps.  Can you bear it, love?”