But if only you will believe always that I once was here, if only you'll not be persuaded into thinking me impossible, silly, absurd, sentimental--with ever so many other things--that's all I've come now to ask you." "Why, how should I ever ?" John demanded indignantly.
"After all, I _was_ a help--for a long time when things were difficult and you had so much to learn--all that time you wanted me, and I was here." "Of course," said John politely, but feeling within him that warning of approaching sentiment that he had learnt by now so fundamentally to dread.
Very well his friend understood his apprehension.
"That's all.

I've only come to you now to ask you to make me a promise--a very easy one." "Yes ?" said John.
"It's only that when you go off to school--before you leave this house--you will just, for a moment, remember me just then, and say good-bye to me.

We've been a lot here in these rooms, in these passages, up and down together, and if only, as you go, you'll think of me, I'll be there....

Every year you've thought of me less--that doesn't matter--but it matters more than you know that you should remember me just for an instant, just to say good-bye.

Will you promise me ?" "Why, of course," said John.
"Don't forget! Don't forget! Don't forget!" And the kindly shadow had faded, the voice lingering about the room, mingling with the faint silver moonlight, passing out into the wider spaciousness of the rolling clouds.
III With the clear light of morning came the confident certainty that it had all been the merest dream, and yet that certainty did not sweep the affair, as it should have done, from young John's brain and heart.