Duncan, instead of favoring someone, had persuaded Marion to dance the figure through with him. The band played a fantastic polka, and, catching the exciting inspiration of the Hungarian strains, they glided fleetly over the slippery floor. It was no longer the dreamy waltz, but the wild abandon of rapid motion, and as they danced Marion seemed carried away by the exhilarating movement. On, on, they danced, until the music stopped; then Duncan led her quickly out of the ball-room to the nook under the musicians' gallery, where, breathless from the exercise, she sank down on the divan. Duncan, seating himself beside her, rested his arm upon one of the cushions, and leaned forward so that he could see her face. Her cheeks glowed from the exercise, and there, in the soft light, her large black eyes glistening with excitement, she seemed to Duncan the most glorious creature he had ever seen. Delighted he gazed until Marion raised her eyes and met his eager glance.
"What do you mean?" she said, with a frightened tone in her voice.
"I mean that I leave to-morrow. I have been called back to the East."
"Yes, I am glad," he replied softly; "glad to have known you, glad to feel that you exist."
Wild thoughts flashed impetuously through her mind. "Why?" she asked.
He leaned forward till his face was near hers, and she could see his grey eyes, now black in the dim light, almost next her own. He took her hand and held it; then he whispered passionately: "Because I love you."
"For the sake of both of us, don't say that," she said hoarsely, drawing back her hand.
"For the sake of both of us I will," he replied. "What is there to prevent our loving?"
"My husband," she said, and the words brought back fear to her heart.
"I thought you were a woman of the world," he replied scornfully. "Do you mean to tell me that you are afraid?"
"Then you must drown your fear in love," he answered, drawing his arm about her shoulders.
"You must leave me," she pleaded, trying to release herself.
"Not until you say you love me," was his answer.
"That I do not hate you ought to tell you that; O, I can't say any more. Leave me, I entreat you."
"I will not leave you, my Marion," he replied impetuously. "I must have your love." And he leaned forward and kissed her. A dress rustled behind the palms. Duncan heard it and quickly released Marion, who darted away and ran toward the ball-room; and Duncan, glancing anxiously through the foliage, saw a crimson gown hurrying through the other door. "Confound my luck!" he muttered. "I thought I knew something about this sort of thing, but I was a fool to take such chances."