tor brought back
from the Holy Land."

"You and I," said Brooke, in a cheery tone, "will be Talbot and
Hayreddin. You are the Christian knight, and I am the heathen. It's a
pity we can't exchange arms."

"Yes, we can't very well do that."

"We can exchange something at any rate, comrade," said Brooke. "You
have my priest's dress--let me have something of yours by way of
exchange."

"But what can I give?" said Talbot.

"Anything, from a needle to a needle-gun. It would be better if
portable--an old ribbon, a portable pincushion, a bootlace."

"I have something," said Talbot, suddenly, "if you will take it,
Brooke; but perhaps you will think it only a bother."

"No, Talbot, lad, brother--brother in arms, and comrade of
mine!--nothing that you can give shall be regarded as other than a
comrade's pledge."

Talbot withdrew her hand, which Brooke had been holding all this
time.

"Here is something," said she. "It will do better than anything
else."

"What is it?" asked Brooke, who could not see in the gloom what it
was that she offered.

"A ring," said Talbot, in a voice that had sunk to a whisper.

"A ring," repeated Brooke. "Is it your ring, Talbot? Then put it on
my finger with your own hands, comrade, and I swear to you by a
soldier's word that it shall never leave me, either in life or
death."

Talbot made no reply, but put the ring, which she had detached from
her own finger, upon the little finger of Brooke's left hand.

Not a word was said by either, and there was now a long silence,
which was finally broken by Brooke.

"Talbot," said he, "don't you think you can sleep a little?"

"I'll try."

"Do. If you could only sleep a little, I should feel very glad
indeed."

"I'll try," said Talbot again, "and you must not suppose that I am
awake."

Talbot now drew off for a little distance, while Brooke remained as
before, and was left to his own meditations. All was still within,
and outside the sounds gradually lessened, until at length they were
heard no more. Slowly the time passed, and to Brooke it had never in
his life seemed so long. Not a sound escaped from Talbot. Was she
asleep?

"Talbot, lad!" said Brooke, in a low voice.

"Well, Brooke," was the gentle reply.

"Have you been asleep?"

"Oh--well--a little."

"No, Talbot," said Brooke, "you have not been asleep. And you say
that you were merely to make it pleasant for me. You are full of
anguish, Talbot, but you keep up a cheerful