Herminia’s heart gave a delicious bound. She was a woman, and therefore she was glad he should speak so. She was a woman, and therefore she shrank from acknowledging it. But she looked him back in the face tranquilly, none the less on that account, and answered with sweet candour, “Thank you so much, Mr Merrick.” “_I_ said ‘Herminia,’” the young man corrected, smiling, yet aghast at his own audacity. “And I thanked you for it,” Herminia answered, casting down those dark lashes, and feeling the heart throb violently under her neat bodice. Alan drew a deep breath. “And it was _that_ you thanked me for,” he ejaculated, tingling. “Yes, it was that I thanked you for,” Herminia answered, with a still deeper rose spreading down to her bare throat. “I like you very much, and it pleases me to hear you call me Herminia. Why should I shrink from admitting it? ’Tis the Truth, you know; and the Truth shall make us Free. I’m not afraid of my freedom.” Alan paused for a second, irresolute. “Herminia,” he said at last, leaning forward till his face was very close to hers, and he could feel the warm breath that came and went so quickly; “that’s very, very kind of you. I needn’t tell you I’ve been thinking a great deal about you these last three weeks or so. You have filled my mind; filled it to the brim, and I think you know it.” Philosopher as she was, Herminia plucked a blade of grass, and drew it quivering through her tremulous fingers. It caught and hesitated. “I guessed as much, I think,” she answered, low but frankly. The young man’s heart gave a bound. “And _you_, Herminia?” he asked, in an eager ecstasy. Herminia was true to the Truth. “I’ve thought a great deal about you too, Mr Merrick,” she answered, looking down, but with a great gladness thrilling her. “I said ‘Herminia,’” the young man repeated, with a marked stress on the Christian name. Herminia hesitated a second. Then two crimson spots flared forth on her speaking face, as she answered with an effort, “About you too, Alan.” The young man drew back and gazed at her. She was very, very beautiful. “Dare I ask you, Herminia?” he cried. “Have I a right to ask you? Am I worthy of you, I mean? Ought I to retire as not your peer, and leave you to some man who could rise more easily to the height of your dignity?” “I’ve thought about that too,” Herminia answered, still firm to her principles. “I’ve thought it all over. I’ve said to myself, Shall I do right in monopolising him, when he is so great, and sweet, and true, and generous? Not monopolising, of course, for that would be wrong and selfish; but making you my own more than any other woman’s. And I answered my own heart, Yes, yes, I shall do right to accept him, if he asks me; for I love him, that is enough. The thrill within me tells me so. Nature put that thrill in our souls to cry out to us with a clear voice when we had met the soul she then and there intended for us.”