"It is very strange," said Giovanni, "how things happen in this world, and how little we ever know of what is before us. Last week I wondered whether I should ever see you--now I cannot imagine not seeing you. Is it not strange?" "Yes," answered Corona, in a low voice. "That, yesterday, we should have seemed parted by an insurmountable barrier, and that to-day--" he stopped. "Oh, if to-day could only last for ever!" he exclaimed, suddenly. Corona gazed out upon the purple hills in silence, but her face caught some of the radiance of the distant glow, and her dark eyes had strange lights in them. She could not have prevented him from speaking; she had loosed the bonds that had held her life so long; the anchor was up, and the breath of love fanned the sails, and gently bore the craft in which she trusted out to seaward over the fair water. In seeing him she had resigned herself to him, and she could not again get the mastery if she would. It had come too soon, but it was sweet. "And why not?" he said, very softly. "Why should it not remain so for ever--till our last breath? Why will you not let it last?" Still she was silent; but the tears gathered slowly in her eyes, and welled over and lay upon her velvet cheek like dewdrops on the leaves of a soft dark tulip. Giovanni saw them, and knew that they were the jewels which crowned his life. "You will," he said, his broad brown hand gently covering her small fingers and taking them in his. "You will--I know that you will." She said nothing, and though she at first made a slight movement--not of resistance, but of timid reluctance, utterly unlike herself--she suffered him to hold her hand. He drew closer to her, himself more diffident in the moment of success than he had ever been when he anticipated failure; she was so unlike any woman he had ever known before. Very gently he put his arm about her, and drew her to him. "My beloved--at last," he whispered, as her head sank upon his shoulder. Then with a sudden movement she sprang to her height, and for one instant gazed upon him. Her whole being was transfigured in the might of her passion: her dark face was luminously pale, her lips almost white, and from her eyes there seemed to flash a blazing fire. For one instant she gazed upon him, and then her arms went round his neck, and she clasped him fiercely to her breast. "Ah, Giovanni," she cried, passionately, "you do not know what love means!" A moment later her arms dropped from him; she turned and buried her face in her hands, leaning against the high stone parapet of the tower. She was not weeping, but her face was white, and her bosom heaved with quick and strong-drawn breath. Giovanni went to her side and took her strongly in his right arm, and again her head rested upon his shoulder.