She turned her head away, and offered me a little sketch, drawn throughout by her own pencil, of the summerhouse in which we had first met. The paper trembled in her hand as she held it out to me⁠—trembled in mine as I took it from her.

I was afraid to say what I felt⁠—I only answered, “It shall never leave me⁠—all my life long it shall be the treasure that I prize most. I am very grateful for it⁠—very grateful to you , for not letting me go away without bidding you goodbye.”

“Oh!” she said innocently, “how could I let you go, after we have passed so many happy days together!”

“Those days may never return, Miss Fairlie⁠—my way of life and yours are very far apart. But if a time should come, when the devotion of my whole heart and soul and strength will give you a moment’s happiness, or spare you a moment’s sorrow, will you try to remember the poor drawing-master who has taught you? Miss Halcombe has promised to trust me⁠—will you promise too?”