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KATE'S WINTER IN WASHINGTON. away by her high spirits; but she is good and true at heart.” She—she has no heart!” he exclaimed, bit- terly. But what matters it? I was not think ing of her! I wish I was away from it all! I have three minds to break loose, to take myself off to some distant land and begin life over, and see if fate can’t grant me, at least, a little of the happiness she so freely lavishes on other men.”

“Go away—leave Lily?”

“Do you suppose Lily would grieve? Bah! She would be delighted to assume the role of the injured wife! Don’t talk about her—I don’t want to think.”

“You must not speak in that way, Mr. Marsden,” said Kate; ‘it is not right for you to talk so, or me to listen.”

“Mr. Marsden!” he repeated; ‘‘it has come to that! You used to call me Philip—you used to say you regarded me as your brother.”

“So I have, Philip; so I do,” she cried, im- pulsively, too much touched by his apparent suffering to think of herself, or weigh her words. ‘You know there is nothing that could disturb my friendship for you. It pains me so much to see you so unhappy—I wish you would tell me the cause.”

“Is it possible you do not know, that you do not suspect!” he exclaimed. ‘Can you be so blind, after all these weeks, after all that you have seen me suffer——.”

His voice died in a sob. Kate sat staring, pale and frightened, but even yet not compre- hending what he meant.

“Kate! Kate!” he groaned.

She actually believed that some great anxiety, which he had kept from her, was driving him temporarily insane. She did not dream of being afraid; she only thought of soothing and quiet- ing his paroxysm of distress.

“Only try to be calm, Philip—brother!” She? rose from her seat and laid her hand on his’ arm.

He broke away from the light clasp of her fingers, crying,

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Oh! this is too much—too much! I can bear no more!

Kate shrunk back aghast at the pallor on his cheek, the fire in his eyes; the animal was so thorough an actor, and entered so completely into his part that, for the moment, it was ear- nest to himself.

Kate sunk into her chair again, almost wild with fear that he was going out of his senses, wondering if Lily would never come, afraid to leave him, conscious that she ought not to re- main; loath to call one of the servants to see him in that state, and in the whirl and confu- pleading voice,

Oh, Philip! Philip!”

As the words left her lips, he fell on his knees at her feet, and clasping her hands so tightly that she could not release them, exclaimed,

I must speak—I will! I love you—I love you! Kate, Kate! have mercy! “T mad!”

It was the first time in all her petted life that anything approaching insult, or rudeness even,  had ever come near the girl. She started to her feet; he sprung up, still holding her hands,  and repeating those insane words.

How dare you!” she exclaimed. hands go. Oh, you coward!” At that instant the door burst open, and in rushed Lily, careful to close the door behind her, and at sight of the tableau she gave a melodramatic shriek.

Deceived! betrayed!” she moaned. ‘My husband! My friend! The girl I called sister— loved better than my own life! Oh, heaven! that I had been struck dead on the threshold before I saw a sight like this.”

Marsden groaned, and covered his face with his hands. Between rage and fright Kate was pale as a ghost, and shaking from head to foot.

“Speak!” shrieked Lily. “Say something, one of you! Explain this, or be merciful and kill me where I stand! Kate, I command you to speak!”

‘Let your husband explain, if he can!” ex claimed Kate; and amid all her terror and anger, she was conscious of a vague wonder that her voice should sound so cold and unmoved. ‘Perhaps, he may do so to your satisfaction. All I ask is to leave this house.”

‘‘Not yet—not yet!” cried Lily, springing between her and the door, and suddenly changing from the heart-broken wife to an infuriated Medea. “You don’t leave this house yet!’ I know all—I heard enough! You called him Philip, dear Philip! He was on his knees be- fore you—your hands in his—your face close to his lips! Oh, fiend! wretch! and I live—I live!”

“If you heard anything,” returned Kate, struggling against the deathly faintness that was coming over her, you know that your husband grossly insulted me.’

“I know that he told you he loved you. A man does not do that unless a girl has given him encouragement No, no, you can’t deceive me.”

“Silence, woman!” exclaimed Marsden, sud-

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