SHE WILL NOT FORGET
lips. He would remember everything about her. Would she remember him, or would she forget him? That was the question burning in his heart; and that question he must have settled, and this was the time.
But though these thoughts and emotions were rushing through his brain and blood, he felt strangely quiet and self-controlled as he walked over to her where she stood beside the piano, and looking into her eyes with an intensity of gaze she could not meet, said, in a low, quick voice: "You are going away?"
"Yes," she replied, so startled that the easy smile with which she had greeted him faded out of her face. "In two weeks I shall be gone."
"Gone!" echoed Ranald. "Yes, you will be gone. Will you forget me?" His tone was almost stern.
"Why, no," she said, in a surprised voice. "Of course not. Did not you save my life? You will be far more likely to forget me."
"No," he said, simply, as if that possibility need not be considered. "I will never forget you. I will always be thinking of you. Will you think of me?" he persisted.
"Why, certainly. Wouldn't I be a very ungrateful girl if I did not?"
"Ungrateful!" exclaimed Ranald, impatiently. "What I did was nothing. Forget that. Do you not understand me? I will be thinking of you every day, in the morning and at night, and I never thought of any one else before for a day. Will you be thinking of me?"
There was a movement in the kitchen, and they
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