st know--oh! I beg
you--" But she interrupted him by taking his arm and drawing him to a
seat beside her on the cushion. She could have drawn down the Colossus
of Rhodes with the look she gave Brandon, so full was it of command,
entreaty and promise.

"That's it; I don't know, but I want to know; and I want you to sit
here beside me and tell me. I am going to be reconciled with you,
despite the way you treated me when last we met. I am going to be
friends with you whether you will or not. Now what do you say to that,
sir?" She spoke with a fluttering little laugh of uneasy
non-assurance, which showed that her heart was not nearly so confident
nor so bold as her words would make believe. Poor Brandon, usually so
ready, had nothing "to say to that," but sat in helpless silence.

Was this the sum total of all his wise determinations made at the cost
of so much pain and effort? Was this the answer to all his prayers,
"Lead me not into temptation"? He had done his part, for he had done
all he could. Heaven had not helped him, since here was temptation
thrust upon him when least expected, and when the way was so narrow he
could not escape, but must meet it face to face.

Mary soon recovered her self-possession--women are better skilled in
this art than men--and continued:

"I am not intending to say one word about your treatment of me that
day over in the forest, although it was very bad, and you have acted
abominably ever since. Now is not that kind in me?" And she softly
laughed as she peeped up at the poor fellow from beneath those
sweeping lashes, with the premeditated purpose of tantalizing him, I
suppose. She was beginning to know her power over him, and it was
never greater than at this moment. Her beauty had its sweetest
quality, for the princess was sunk and the woman was dominant, with
flushed face and flashing eyes that caught a double luster from the
glowing love that made her heart beat so fast. Her gown, too, was the
best she could have worn to show her charms. She must have known
Brandon was there, and must have dressed especially to go to him. She
wore her favorite long flowing outer sleeve, without the close fitting
inner one. It was slit to the shoulder, and gave entrancing glimpses
of her arms with every movement, leaving them almost bare when she
lifted her hands, which was often, for she was as full of gestures as
a Frenchwoman. Her bodice was cut low, both back and front, showing
her large perfectly