She might speak, then, for he would hear tones not hers.
"Beloved, I am tired of my name.

Will you not call me by another ?" She spoke very softly.
"By another name ?" he exclaimed, surprised, but smiling at what seemed a strange caprice.
"Yes.

It is a sad name to me.

It reminds me of many things--of a time that is better forgotten since it is gone.

Will you do it for me?
It will make it seem as though that time had never been." "And yet I love your own name," he said, thoughtfully.