There was the witchery of the hour and the scene to excuse him; there was the fair loveliness of her face, the love in her eyes that lured him, the trembling lips that seemed made to be kissed; there was the glamour that a young and beautiful woman always throws over a man; there was the music that came from the throats of a thousand birds, the fragrance that came from a thousand flowers to excuse him. He lost his head, as many a wiser man has done; his brain reeled, his heart beat; the warm white hand lay so trustingly in his own, and he read on her fair, pure face the story of her love. He never knew what madness possessed him; he who had called himself the husband of another; but he drew her face to his and kissed her lips, while he whispered to her how fair and how sweet she was. The next moment he remembered himself, and wished the deed undone. It was too late--to one like Lady Marion a kiss meant a betrothal, and he knew it. He saw tears fall from her eyes; he kissed them away, and then she whispered to him in a low, sweet voice: "How did you guess my secret?" "Your secret," he repeated, and kissed her again, because he did not know what to say. "Yes; how did you find out that I loved you?" she asked, simply. "I am sure I have always tried to hide it." "Your beautiful eyes told it," he said; and then a sudden shock of horror came to him. Great Heaven! what was he doing? where was Leone? She did not perceive it, but raised her blushing face to his. "Ah, well," she said, sweetly, "it is no secret since you have found it out. It is true, I do love you, and my eyes have not told you falsely." Perhaps she wondered that he listened so calmly, that he did not draw her with passionate words and caresses to his heart, that he did not speak with the raptures lovers used. He looked pale and troubled, yet he clasped her hand more closely. "You are very good to me," he said. "I do not deserve it, I do not merit it. You--you--shame me, Marion." She looked at him with a warm glow of happiness on her face. "It would not be possible to be too good to you; but I must not tell you of all I think of you, or you will grow vain. I think," she continued, with a smile that made her look like an angel, "I think now that I know how much you love me I shall be the happiest woman on the face of the earth." He did not remember to have said how much he loved her, or to have spoken of his love at all, but evidently she thought he had, and it came to the same thing. "How pleased Lady Lanswell will be!" said the young heiress, after a time. "You will think me very vain to say so, but I believe she loves me." "I am sure of it; who could help it?" he said, absently. He knew that he had done wrong, he repented it, and made one desperate effort to save himself. "Lady Marion," he said, hurriedly, "let me ask you one question. You have heard, of course, the story of my early love?" He felt the trembling of her whole figure as she answered, in a low voice: