"Then I hope you won't be tried," said Percival.

She shook her pretty head: "People always talk about casting gold into the
furnace, and it's coming out only the brighter and better. Things are not
good for much if you would rather they were not tried."

Her hand was on the window-frame as she spoke, and the young man touched a
ring she wore: "Gold is tried in the furnace--yes, but not your pearls.
Besides, I'm not so sure that you would fail if you were put to the test."

She smiled, well pleased, yet unconvinced.

"You think," he went on, "that people who did great deeds did them without
an effort--were always ready, like a bow always strung? No, no, Sissy: they
felt very weak sometimes. Isn't there anything in the world you think you
could die for? Even if you say 'No' now, there may be something one of
these days."

The twilight hid the soft glow which overspread her face. "Anything in the
world you could die for?" Anything? Anybody? Her blood flowed in a strong,
courageous current as her heart made answer, "Yes--for one."

But she did not speak, and after a moment her companion changed the
subject. "That's a pretty ring," he said.

Sissy started from her reverie: "Horace gave it me. Adieu, Mr. Percival
Thorne: I'm going to look at my roses."

"Thank you. Yes, I shall be delighted to come." And Percival jumped out.