"Of course we cannot leave Cherry," so Violet wrote; "one of us is up there all the time. Cherry looks like a white wind-flower. O, Magnus, I wish you were here!" And Magnus gave a groan and turned to his tally: twenty-one days to June. But he did what he could. He wrote Cherry a letter every day, saying everything he could to beguile her thoughts. He sent the last picture of himself, and the class picture, and a photograph of the up-river view. In every letter went his marks for the day, with what bits of mischief or of news the Post could furnish. He told what girls he had walked with, and of his rambles alone; giving her much to read and to talk of. With all this he studied untiringly, refused invitations, went up in his marks, and was often fagged enough when tattoo beat; but less with the work than with excitement and tension. He had applied for a regiment not then near San Carlos; but so much depended upon how many men went to Willet's Point that he could guess little as to his own placing. One thing was sure, he was learning fast. Lessons of patience, of self-control, of trust; so winning true promotion, day by day. Finding out also, with new understanding, the exceeding helpfulness of prayer; learning to lay down cares and questions at the feet of that blessed Lord Jesus who "doeth all things well." Rank and post, life and death, could safely be left with Him! A great peace and a great strength were in the face of Magnus Kindred in those days. If he seemed graver than usual, it was that with every chance his thoughts flew away. Or, rather, were some of them always in that far-off sick-room. For whoever else might be with her, Magnus knew, unerringly, how Cherry's heart reached out for him. How, in every hard moment, with every new token of the coming sorrow, the longing for him leaped up and grew. Sometimes it made him almost desperate enough to go, at all risks. As a last comfort to himself and to her, Magnus took off his class ring and expressed it on, bidding her wear it till he came to put another in its place. She would not take it last summer, but she must _now_. And there was no telling what that ring was to the girl, and to her father as well, making the bond so tangible and real. Cherry studied it in her lonely night watches, and Mr. Erskine's heart gave thanks at every gleam of the stone as her hands' sweet ministry came about him. While far away, Magnus, on his part, was verifying and honouring all their trust.