She rose hastily, but he drew her back.
“Not yet, Floy, darling! let us stay here a little longer. I think the crowd may lessen in the next hour, and there is so much I want to say to you—to ask you. What of this new-found relative—this aunt? Are you happy with her? is she kind to you?”
“She is very fond of me, and I have a good home with her,” Ethel answered, smiling brightly as she turned her face to him. “And she will be glad, very glad, to see you, Espy. I have told her the whole story of our acquaintance and engagement, and she is deeply interested for us both.”
He flushed with pleasure.
“Ah, Floy, my little love! our skies are brightening; the course of true love begins to run smooth. How glad I am for you!”
“Do you know,” she said gayly, “that you have not asked me my true name? though I told you I had found it.”
“Ah, yes; I want to hear it, and how and where you found the paper; but I think you must let me call you always by the name I have loved so dearly since we were mere babies. I think no other can ever sound so sweet to my ear.”
“I shall allow my willing slave to have his own way in this one thing,” she returned sportively. “I do not object to being Floy to you, though all others call me Ethel.”
“Ethel!” he said, “that is a sweet name too.”
“Yes; allow me to introduce myself. Mr. Alden, I am Ethel Farnese, sometimes called Pansy by my aunt—a pet name she had formerly bestowed upon my mother, the first Ethel Farnese.”