"The next day!" she exclaimed, with a happy laugh. "Do you think I am going to stay—"
"For ever," interrupted Giovanni. "We have a priest here, you know,—he can marry us to-morrow, and then you need never go away."
Corona's face grew grave.
"We must not talk of that yet," she said, gently, "even in jest."
"No; you are right. Forgive me," he answered; "I forget many things—it seems to me I have forgotten everything, except that I love you."
"Giovanni,"—she lingered on the name,—"Giovanni, we must tell your father at once."
"Are you willing I should?" he asked, eagerly.
"Of course—he ought to know; and Sister Gabrielle too. But no one else must be told. There must be no talk of this in Rome until—until next year."
"We will stay in the country until then, shall we not?" asked Giovanni, anxiously. "It seems to me so much better. We can meet here, and nobody will talk. I will go and live in the town at Astrardente, and play the engineer, and build your roads for you."
"I hardly know," said Corona, with a doubtful smile. "You could not do that. But you may come and spend the day once—in a week, perhaps."