"The very thing!" Kate exclaimed, sinking upon the divan with a sigh of

relief; "we will have a fine view of the dancers and yet be quite

secluded ourselves."

A minuet was already in progress on the floor, and for a few moments

Kate watched the stately, graceful dance, while Darrell, having adjusted

her wrap lightly about her, seated himself beside her and silently

watched her face with deep content.

Gradually the throbbing in her temples subsided, the nervous tremor

ceased, her color became natural, and she felt quite herself again. She

leaned back against the divan and looked with laughing eyes into

Darrell's face.

"Mr. Darrell, do you believe in hypnotism?" she suddenly inquired.

"In hypnotism? Yes; but not in many of those who claim to practise it.

Most of them are mere impostors. But why do you ask?" he continued,

drawing her head down upon his shoulder and looking playfully into her

eyes; "are you trying to hypnotize me?"

Kate laughed merrily and shook her head. "I'm afraid I wouldn't find you

a good subject," she said; then added, slowly, as her face grew serious: "Do you know, I believe I was hypnotized to-night by that dreadful Mr.

Walcott. He certainly cast a malign spell of some kind over me from the

moment we went on the floor together till he left me."

"Why do you say that?" Darrell asked, quickly; "you know I did not see

you on the floor with him, for Miss Stockton asked me to go with her for

a promenade. We came back just as the waltz had ended and Mr. Walcott

was escorting you to your aunt. I noticed that you seemed greatly

fatigued and excused myself to Miss Stockton and came over at once. What

had happened?"

Kate related what had occurred. "I can't give you any idea of it," she

said, in conclusion; "it seemed unaccountable, but it was simply

dreadful. You know his eyes are nearly always closed in that peculiar

way of his, and really I don't think I had any idea how they looked; but

to-night as he looked at me they were wide open; and, do you know, I

can't describe them, but they looked so soft and melting they were

beautiful, and yet there was something absolutely terrible in their

depths. It seemed some way like looking down into a volcano! And the

worst of it was, they seemed to hold me--I couldn't take my eyes from

his. He was as kind and courteous as could be, I'll admit that, but even

the touch of his fingers made me shiver."

Darrell's face had darkened during Kate's recital, but he controlled his

anger.

"Now, was that due to my own imagination or to some uncanny spell of

his?" Kate insisted.

"To neither wholly, and yet perhaps a little of each," Darrell answered,

lightly, not wishing to alarm her or lead her to attach undue importance

to the occurrence. "I think Mr. Walcott has an abnormal amount of

conceit, and that most of those little mannerisms of his are mainly to

attract attention to himself. He was probably trying to produce some

sort of an impression on your mind, and to that extent he certainly

succeeded, only the impression does not seem to have been as favorable

as he perhaps would have wished. No one but a conceited cad would have

attempted such a thing, and with your supersensitive nature the effect

on you was anything but pleasant, but don't allow yourself to think

about it or be annoyed by it. At the same time I would advise you not to

place yourself in his power or where he could have any advantage of you.

By the way, this is our waltz, is it not?"




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