“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.”