molded throat and neck, like an alabaster pillar
of beauty and strength, and disclosing her bosom just to its shadowy
incurving, white and billowy as drifted snow. Her hair was thrown back
in an attempt at a coil, though, like her own rebellious nature, it
could not brook restraint, and persistently escaped in a hundred
little curls that fringed her face and lay upon the soft white nape of
her neck like fluffy shreds of sun-lit floss on new cut ivory.

With the mood that was upon her, I wonder Brandon maintained his
self-restraint even for a moment. He felt that his only hope lay in
silence, so he sat beside her and said nothing. He told me long
afterwards that while sitting there in the intervals between her
speech, the oddest, wildest thoughts ran through his brain. He
wondered how he could escape. He thought of the window, and that
possibly he might break away through it, and then he thought of
feigning illness, and a hundred other absurd schemes, but they all
came to nothing, and he sat there to let events take their own course
as they seemed determined to do in spite of him.

After a short silence, Mary continued, half banteringly: "Answer me,
sir! I will have no more of this. You shall treat me at least with the
courtesy you would show a bourgeoise girl."

"Oh, that you were only a burgher's daughter."

"Yes, I know all that; but I am not. It can't be helped, and you shall
answer me."

"There is no answer, dear lady--I beg you--oh, do you not see--"

"Yes, yes; but answer my question; am I not kind--more than you
deserve?"

"Indeed, yes; a thousand times. You have always been so kind, so
gracious and so condescending to me that I can only thank you, thank
you, thank you," answered Brandon, almost shyly; not daring to lift
his eyes to hers.

Mary saw the manner quickly enough--what woman ever missed it, much
less so keen-eyed a girl as she--and it gave her confidence, and
brought back the easy banter of her old time manner.

"How modest we have become! Where is the boldness of which we used to
have so much? Kind? Have I always been so? How about the first time I
met you? Was I kind then? And as to condescension, don't--don't use
that word between us."

"No," returned Brandon, who, in his turn, was recovering himself, "no,
I can't say that you were very kind at first. How you did fly out at
me and surprise me. It was so unexpected it almost took me off my
feet," and they both laughed in remembering the