For that Ben found no answer, but a new wave of courage allowed him to recapture her hand. "I suppose, Faith, it sounds as if I were talking the stuff of dreams." "Brave dreams, but--why to me?" "I think you made them." "Oh, Ben, you'll break my heart. I am not--I--never mind, I don't wish to speak of it. But you should not be telling these things to me. I should not allow it. When we first met I thought you were only a green boy. Now I see you're--not, quite, and I...." His own courage amazing him, Ben said: "And thou, Faith? How old art thou?" "I am seventeen. But women are much older." "I have heard that, and don't believe it." "Oh! Oh! Must I now be angered with you?" "No," said Ben, still dizzily courageous--"no, you must not. But you must tell me why you should be suddenly distressed, and--and why I shouldn't tell you what's in my heart. What is it, Faith?" The courage, he supposed, could hardly last much longer, but he could take some pride in it, this courage faintly like cruelty, that seemed to have swept away her needless defenses. "We should not be speaking thus together." As though the dutiful assertion itself had given her confidence, she went on more tranquilly: "Have you ever thought, Benjamin--but, la, why should you?--that the lot of women is none so easy? We must stay at home. In many concerns we may not even speak. We marry, d'you see, and bear children, and must mind the house--no matter if those we love are on the far side of the earth, yet we must do that, and keep our own counsel too.... One day, Benjamin, I shall marry a rich man, and I hope"--but as she said it she clutched his hand and her eyes filled--"I hope and pray he'll have nothing whatsoever to do with the old gray sea. Oh, I _will_ not marry a sailor, never! Only think," she said, warming to it and laughing now with some mischief--"he my husband shall be a pillar of the colony, like Judge Sewall, ha?--or even a royal governor, Benjamin, with _such_ a wig!--oh, Ben, Ben, have I hurt thee?" Helplessly Ben said: "I love thee." She rose quickly and moved away. He dared not look up until she spoke again. "I am--sorry.... Marry, yes, and bear children and mind the house, and grow old little by little--why, that Magellan of yours, tell me, how long was _he_ gone when he made the circuit of the world? I shall be old and gray when you--come back. Oh yes yes, an old gray dame with wrinkled cheeks and shaking hands, and belike I'll say, 'Why, grandchildren, I knew him, the great Benjamin Cory----'" "Don't!" said Ben, and knew her hands were on his shoulders. One of them curled under his chin to lift his face. "There!" she said--"do you see? You see what a naughty heartless old woman I am already? But promise me, Ben--promise me you _will_ come back."