Until then wear this, Beatrice, for my sake; it is our betrothal ring." "It shall not leave my finger," she said.

"Mamma will not notice it, and every one else will think she has given it to me herself." "And now," said Hugh, "promise me once more, Beatrice, you will be true to me--you will wait for me--that when I return you will let me claim you as my own ?" "I do promise," she said, looking at the sun shining on the opals.
Beatrice never forgot the hour that followed.

Proud, impetuous, and imperial as she was, the young man's love and sorrow touched her as nothing had ever done.

The sunbeams died away in the west, the glorious mass of tinted clouds fell like a veil over the evening sky, the waves came in rapidly, breaking into sheets of white, creamy foam in the gathering darkness, but still he could not leave her.
"I must go, Hugh," said Beatrice, at length; "mamma will miss me." She never forgot the wistful eyes lingering upon her face.
"Once more, only once more," he said.

"Beatrice, my love, when I return you will be my wife ?" "Yes," she replied, startled alike by his grief and his love.
"Never be false to me," he continued.