"
"So it was," he answered, evasively, "what a good memory you have."
"For trifles--yes," said I, somewhat playfully. A pause ensued, during
which he looked straight before him at the pattern on the carpet I
twisted my rings abstractedly round my fingers, trying to think of
something safe to talk about, when, to my surprise, he stood up
abruptly before me, and held out his hand.
"It is growing late," he said, with a friendly smile, "and I must not
detain you; this is," (and he took my timid fingers firmly in his own
deep grasp) "good-bye, I suppose?"
His full gaze was upon me I could feel it I could see it even before I
had raised my eyes.
"This is good-bye," I repeated, meeting his glance bravely and openly.
"Good-bye then, and may God bless you, Amey," he said, with a deep,
earnest voice; "Sometimes when your memory flies back to your old
home, give a kindly thought to your old friends as well, for we shall
often, often think of you."
He was holding my hand all the while, which is not forbidden between
such friends as we were, and without taking it away, I looked
reproachfully into his face, and said:
"Don't think so little of me as to imagine I need this parting
rejoinder, Mr. Dalton; I can ill afford to forget my few good friends,
and you have always been one to me. I hope when we meet again, I will
have no more to reproach you with in this respect than you will have
against me. I could not say more than this.
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