"Of course I will. I should wish to do so in any case, because, if you are to help me, you ought to thoroughly understand me. There is one thing more I should like to ask," she added, as they turned towards the door, "and that is that you would not call me Miss Macks. I am not used to it, and it sounds strangely; no one ever called me that in Tuscolee." "What did they call you in Tuscolee?" "They called me Miss Ettie; my name is Ethelinda Faith. But my friends and older people called me just 'Ettie'; I wish you would, too." "I am certainly older," replied Noel, gravely (he was thirty-three); "but I do not like Ettie. With your permission, I will call you Faith." "Do you like it? It's so old-fashioned! It was my grandmother's name." "I like it immensely," he answered, leading the way down-stairs. "You can't think how I've enjoyed it," she said, warmly, at the door. "Yet you do not agree with my opinions?" "Not yet. But all the same it was perfectly delightful. Good-bye." He had signalled for a carriage, as he had, as usual, an engagement. She preferred to walk. He drove off, and did not see her for ten days. Then he came upon her again and again in the Doria gallery. He was fond of the Doria, and often went there, but he had no expectation of meeting Miss Macks this time; he fancied that she followed a system, going through her list of galleries in regular order, one by one, and in that case she would hardly have reached the Doria on a second round. Her list was a liberal one; it included twenty. Noel had supposed that there were but nine in Rome. This time she did not see him; she had some sheets of manuscript in her hand, and was alternately reading from them and looking at one of the pictures. She was much absorbed. After a while he went up. "Good-morning, Miss Macks." She started; her face changed, and the color rose. She was as delighted as before. She immediately showed him her manuscript. There he beheld, written out in her clear handwriting, all he had said of the Doria pictures, page after page of it; she had actually reproduced from memory his entire discourse of an hour. There were two blank spaces left. "There, I could not exactly remember," said Miss Macks, apologetically. "If you would tell me, I should be so glad; then it would be quite complete." "I shall never speak again. I am frightened," said Noel. He had taken the manuscript, and was looking it over with inward wonder. "Oh, please do." "Why do you care for my opinions, Miss Macks, when you do not agree with them?" he asked, his eyes still on the pages. "You said you would call me Faith. Why do I care? Because they are yours, of course." "Then you think I know?" "I am sure you do." "But it follows, then, that you do not." "Yes; and there is where my work comes in; I have got to study up to you. I am afraid it will take a long time, won't it?" "That depends upon you. It would take very little if you would simply accept noncombatively."