“I shall not express another regret if it is going to trouble you so; but, Earle, I shall be glad to have _you_ safely back again,” she returned, leaning toward him with a yearning on her fair face that thrilled him through and through. “My darling, do you know how very lovely you are?” he asked, with eager fondness, as his eyes lingered upon the sweet picture before him. She flashed a brilliant glance at him and colored beautifully at this involuntary tribute. “You should not say such things to me, Earle. You will make me vain,” she said, with playful chiding, yet her lips wore a smile of tremulous tenderness, as if she was glad to be lovely in his eyes. He laughed softly. “I am to tell you just what I like, my own, all the rest of your life. Do you know it? And I am not in the least afraid of the result of which you speak. Do you know, beloved,” dropping his voice and speaking with an intensity that moved her whole being, “that all the world has changed for me since yesterday?” A quick, luminous glance up into the eyes bent so fondly upon her, a rare, sweet smile and a deepening flush, told him that this change had not touched him alone. The ringing of a bell now startled them. “I must not detain you,” Editha said, with a sigh and an anxious glance at the steamer, where all was bustle and confusion. “Not long, I fear. But you will take good care of my ‘happiness’ for me while I am away?” he returned, tenderly. “I will do the best that I can, Earle; but how I shall wish the time away. See, I have brought you these, and,” with a sly look and smile, “if you can read this mute language, you will know all I would like to tell you and cannot,” and she put into his hands an elegant and carefully selected bouquet of flowers. He took them with fond thanks, and involuntarily laid the bright blossoms, weighted with their fragrance, against his lips. Then, with a sudden start and a brilliant smile, he said, eagerly: “Ah! strange I did not think before; but now I can give you something that I purchased this morning, hoping to have time to drop it in the office for you, but did not after all.” He took a little case from his pocket, opened it, and drew forth a lovely ring, set with one large, rare, pure pearl. “Hold out the finger I want, Editha,” he commanded, softly. And, with downcast eyes and a deeper, richer surging of color, she held out the forefinger of her left hand, while, with a look of reverence and solemn joy, he slipped the ring to its place. “I am glad that I can put it on myself, instead of sending it, as I thought I must. Do you like it, Editha?” he asked, regarding the shyly downcast face with exceeding tenderness. “I cannot tell you how much, Earle.”