said, that a union between us can never take place. I have given
my solemn promise to---"

"Well, well. Why do you stop? Am I so hard to talk to that the
words will not leave your lips?"

"I have promised my father I will never marry you. He feels that
he has grounds of complaint against you, and as I owe him
everything---"

He stopped amazed. She was looking at him intently, that same low
laugh still on her lips.

"Tell the truth," she whispered. "I know to what extent you
consider your father's wishes. You think you ought not to marry me
after what took place last night. Frederick, I like you for this
evidence of consideration on your part, but do not struggle too
relentlessly with your conscience. I can forgive much more in you
than you think, and if you really love me---"

"Stop! Let us understand each other." He had turned mortally pale,
and met her eyes with something akin to alarm. "What do you allude
to in speaking of last night? I did not know there was anything
said by us in our talk together---"

"I do not allude to our talk."

"Or--or in the one dance we had---"

"Frederick, a dance is innocent."