She perceived that Espy had heard nothing of her changed circumstances and the consequent alteration in his father’s feelings; and, for reasons of her own, she preferred that he should for the present remain in ignorance of these things; yet she could not drive him from her again, could not deny to him or herself the happiness that now might be lawfully theirs. Besides, she felt that his reasoning was sound; that he was of age to choose for himself, and to disregard his father’s refusal to give consent. “Floy, Floy, you will not, cannot be so cruel as to bid me begone?” Espy’s voice was full of passionate entreaty, and his grasp tightened upon her hand. “No, no, I cannot,” she faltered; “I cannot so reward such love and constancy as yours. When we last met you refused to accept your freedom, and--you--shall not have it now,” she concluded playfully, lifting a smiling, blushing face to his for an instant, then half averting it as she caught the look of ecstasy in his. “Your willing slave for life, I hug my chain!” he cried in transport. “Which means me, I suppose,” she laughed, for he drew his arm more closely about her as he spoke. “A golden chain,” he whispered low and rapturously; “such fetters and warder as Fitz-James appointed for the Graeme.” Another arch smile, and another swift, bewitching glance from the lustrous eyes, were the only reply vouchsafed him; but he seemed satisfied. “Floy, my own little wife!” he whispered, bending over her to look into the blushing, happy face, “this moment repays me for all the loneliness, all the struggles of the past two years.” Then he went on to tell of a long, weary, fruitless search for her. He had returned to Chicago shortly after his mother’s death, hoping to learn her address from the Leas, but found their house closed and a bill of sale upon it. The newspapers told him of Mr. Lea’s defalcation and subsequent suicide, but he could not discover the whereabouts of the family, nor in any other way obtain a clue to the residence of her whom he was so anxiously seeking. At length, abandoning its personal prosecution for the time, but engaging a friend to continue it for him, he went to Italy to pursue the study of his art, determined to make fame and money as a worthy offering to his “little love” when she should be found. “It has been my dream by day and by night, dearest,” he said, “and has been partially realized. I have sold some pictures at very good prices, and am hoping much from some I have on exhibition here. If they do for me what I hope, I shall soon be able to make a home for you, where, God helping me,” he added low and reverently, “I will shield you from every evil and make your life as bright and joyous and free from care as that of any bird.” How her heart went out to him in proud, fond appreciation as he said these words, his face, as he bent over her and looked into hers with his soulful eyes, all aglow with love and delight.