"No," she murmured, her honesty and innocence giving her courage to say that which another might have sought to conceal, "you didn't, but--I don't believe--I can--help it, either." It was out now. His love had shown her her own. She was another woman; never again would she look at life with the eyes of the girl of yesterday. Ferdinand had come to Miranda; and Ariel had opened the eyes of the maiden to new things on the old island more wonderful than those revealed by Prospero's magic wand. And to Revere, too, the complexion of the world suddenly and swiftly altered. "Oh, Emily, you don't mean it!" he cried in exultant surprise. He had not hoped so soon for this revelation of the woman's heart. Her face was averted now, but she spoke distinctly enough for him to hear every whispered word. "Yes, I think--I believe--I do. I have thought about it a great deal since you spoke."--Three hours ago! "And I believe I----" She could not quite say it--yet. "Emily, dearest, I am so happy it seems to me I can hardly breathe. I do not dare to look at you. I love you so! Come, let us hurry back to the shore." "Mr. Revere----" she began, starting the boat again. "That will not do at all," he interrupted, promptly and decisively; "you must call me something else--now that you--oh, do you?" "Richard," she said, bravely. "Those who love me call me 'Dick,'" pleadingly. "I couldn't say that--not just yet--Dick!" He laughed in sheer pleasure. "I never knew what a pretty name I had before, Emily." "I think it is lovely," she said, naïvely. "Thank you. Do you like my other name, too?" "Oh, ever so much." "I am so glad, because it will be yours. Mrs. Richard Revere." "Hush, how can you!" she cried, blushing furiously. "I want to ask one thing of you. Do not say anything about--to-day. That is, to grandfather or Captain Barry,--not just yet." "I'm not likely to say anything about it to Captain Barry now or at any other time," he laughed; "and as for the admiral, it will do no harm for us to wait a day or two, I fancy,--that is, if you wish it, princess." Her desire suited his plans admirably, for the delay would give him time to write and get his freedom. "I want to enjoy it first alone," she went on, dreamily. "I want to have the knowledge that you love me all to myself, just for a day. It's so sacred, and so solemn a thing to me, Richard; so beautiful, that I want to keep it just here in my heart alone, for a little while." She laid her hand upon her heart with the sweetest gesture as she spoke. "It shall be so," he answered, frankly, adoring her. "Whatever you wish shall always be, if I can bring it about." Oh, the rash promises of lovers! "And you will let me have my happiness to myself, then? You will not think me foolish?" "Not all to yourself, for, though I do not speak, I must still share it, and I think you are perfect in everything."