waist and her light
form borne along into the dance.

As they went off Alick passed through the open window and stole away
into the garden. The pain lost by Leam had been found by him, and it
lay heavy on his soul.

Dancing was Leam's greatest pleasure and her best accomplishment. She
had inherited the national passion as well as the grace bequeathed by
her mother; and even Adelaide was forced to acknowledge that no one in
or about North Aston came near to her in this. Edgar, too, danced
in the best style of the best kind of English gentleman; and it was
really something for the rest to look at when these two "took the
floor." But never had Leam felt during a dance as she felt now--never
had she shone to such perfection. She was as if taken up into another
world, where she was some one else and not herself--some one radiant,
without care, light-hearted, and without memories. The rapid movement
intoxicated her; the lights no longer dazzled but excited her; she
was not oppressed by the many eyes that looked at her: she was elated,
made proud and glad, for was she not dancing as none of them could,
and with Edgar? Edgar, too, was not the Edgar of the dull, prosaic
every day, but was changed like all the rest. He was like some prince
of old-time romance, some knight of chivalry, some hero of history,
and the poetry, the passion, that seemed to inspire her with more than
ordinary life were reflected in him.

"My darling!" Edgar said below his breath, pressing her to him warmly,
"do you think now that it is no pleasure for me to dance with you?"

Leam, startled at the word, the tone, looked up half scared into
his face; then--she herself scarcely knowing what she did, but
instinctively answering what she saw--Edgar felt her little hand on
his shoulder lie there heavily, her figure yield to his arm as it had
never yielded before, while her head drooped like a flower faint with
the heavy sunlight till it nearly touched his breast.

"My Leam!" he whimpered again, "I love you! I love you! my Leam, my
love!"

Leam sighed dreamily. "This is like death--and heaven," she murmured
as he stopped by the window where she had sat with Alick, and carried
her half fainting into the garden.

The cool night-air revived her, and she opened her eyes, wondering
where she was and what had happened. Even now she could not take it
all in, but she knew that something had come to her of which she was
ashamed, and that she must not stay here