“As you have done, I can fancy other women, with a weaker love than yours, clinging to a husband, praying him not to go--not to leave them. So few would say as you do, my darling, ‘God speed you,’ with a smile. Hermione, I have something to ask of you.” They were standing then under the shade of a large oak tree, the smiling landscape around them, the smiling skies above. “I cannot tell when I shall return. They say the expedition is to be absent for two years--it may be longer, it may not be as long. Hermione, promise me that you will be here to meet me as though I had been only a few hours away. See, love, if the day of the return be bright and sunny like to-day, come to this tree and await me here. Do you promise?” She raised her eyes to his. “I promise you, love,” she replied, and they little dreamed then what that coming home would be like. He laid his hand caressingly on the golden head. “Hermione,” he said, “you once made a vow to me--do you remember it? When I went to you in my sorrow and desolation, and asked you to be my wife.” “I remember my vow, Ronald. It was to love you and you only until I died. It was to stand between you and all sorrow, to give my life for you if needful.” “Yes,” he said, kissing her sweet face, “and you have nobly kept that vow. You have been the good angel of my life.” “I shall keep it even better,” she replied, mechanically, and then began to wonder at her own words. So often, Heaven help us! our idle words, our careless words, spoken without thought, without meaning, are prophecies. This was one. Then Kenelm Eyrle came out, bringing with him the little children--Harry, the heir, and Clare, who had her mother’s beautiful face. He was going to London with Sir Ronald, and the hour of starting had arrived. They all remembered that scene long after other and more terrible scenes had darkened their lives. How the little ones clung around him and played around him. How Harry asked in baby language, where papa was going, and why did mamma look so unhappy? Then Ronald took the children by the hand and led them up to Kenelm Eyrle. “When great warriors go out to battle,” he said, “they leave their most precious jewels in safe hands. Kenelm, these are my jewels, more precious to me a thousand times than all the jewels that ever came from Golconda’s mines. When I return, my friend and brother, I shall ask what you have done with my jewels, which I leave in your hands.” “I will render you just account,” said Mr. Eyrle. Then Sir Ronald took Lady Hermione’s hand. “This, my dearest and most beloved wife, I leave also in your charge. You shall answer for her as you will answer for your own soul to God.” “That will I do,” said Mr. Eyrle, cheerfully. “You will help her, Kenelm, with all the business of the estate. She will not hear of any steward, or I would have appointed one. Stand between her and all trouble, Kenelm.” “I will,” he replied, cheerfully.