'George--I'm not going with you to the station.'
'How long will it take you, George, getting to the front?'
'About twenty-four hours from the base, perhaps more. It's a weary business.'
'I think so. That part of the line's very short of men.'
'By every possible post, I should think, darling. You've given me post-cards enough.'
And he tapped his breast-pocket, where lay the little writing-case she had furnished for every imaginable need.
'When you're tired, you're--you're not to write.'
He put out his long arms, and took her hands in his.
She looked down upon the hands holding hers. In each of the little fingers there was a small amusing deformity--a slight crook or twist--which, as is the way of lovers, was especially dear to her. She remembered once, before they were engaged, flaming out at Bridget, who had made mock of it. She stooped now, and kissed the fingers. Then she bowed her forehead upon them.
'George!'--he could only just hear her--'I know Miss Martin will be kind to me--and I shall find plenty to do. You're never to worry about me.'
'I won't--so long as you write to me--every day.'
There was again a silence. Then she lifted her head, and as the boat swung out of the shadow, the moonlight caught her face.
'You'll take that Wordsworth I gave you, won't you, George? It'll remind you--of this.' Her gesture showed the lake and the mountains.
'Of course, I shall take it. I shall read it whenever I can--perhaps more for your sake--than Wordsworth's.'
'It'll make us remember the same things,' she murmured.
'As if we wanted anything to make us remember!'
'George!' her voice was almost a sob--'It's been almost too perfect. Sometimes--just for that--I'm afraid.'
'Don't be, darling. The God we believe in _isn't_ a jealous God! That's one of the notions one grows out of--over there.'
'Do you think He's our friend, George--that He really cares?'
The sweet appealing voice touched him unbearably.
'Yes, I do think it--' he said, firmly, after a pause. 'I do believe it--with all my heart.'
'Then I'll believe it!' she said, with a long breath; and there was silence again, till suddenly over the water came the sound of the Rydal Chapel bell, striking midnight. Nelly withdrew her hands and sat up.