Page:Peterson Magazine 1869B.pdf/478

KATE'S WINTER IN WASHINGTON. 435 the oppression in her throat ceased, and she could speak.

She heard Harry say again. “I love you, Kate, more than ever! Tell me everything; trust me—I shall only love you the more,”

That was impossible, he could not. Even if he believed her innocent, he could not bear the exposure and disgrace to come near his name— no man could; but she would tell him, she could not endure her agony alone.

“Tell me, Kate—tell me!”

She covered her face, and told the whole story more clearly and connectedly than could have been expected.

“Now go,” she said, “leave me to the fate I have brought on myself, What you warned me of has come; if I ever wronged you, surely you are avenged.”

He had listened im perfect silence. As she spoke those words, she felt bim lift her head ‘upon his shoulder, felt his arms fold themselves close about her. He made no scene, wasted no breath in cursing the wretches; he only said, very quietly.

“This is your place, Kate, you are safe here. Don’t shake and tremble so, you are in no dan- ger; these people can’t injure you.”

“She will tell my uncle; she wants a divorce.”

“Listen to me, Kate! This was all a plot to extort money; they have done it before, but they can't succeed now. A friend of Matthews told me what was going on, and I came back last night. I can force them both to be silent; they will only be too glad. I'll go to them at ‘once, and within an hour bring you back assur- ances that everything is settled, and that they will never trouble you again.”

She sat up looking in his face with incredu lous wonder, unable to believe that the storm could pass and leave her unharmed.

Before he could speak again the door-bell rang; there were eager voices audible, then a quick step om the stairs.

«She has come,” groaned Kate; “she will find my uncle.”

«Hush! She is coming here; your uncle is in his library, he sent me here to wait for you, Let her come in; lie still and don't speak.”

The door opened, and Lily came in, exclaiming.

“I know she is at home; I want to see Mr. Wallingford.” Everett stepped forward. “Mr. Wallingford is engaged,” said he; ‘Kate is ill. What do you wish, Mrs. Marsden?”

He closed the door behind her. She was so taken aback by his appearance that her theatri cal powers quite deserted her for the moment, and she sunk submissively into the chair he  placed for her. Only for a moment; she re- covered herself, and began,

‘There she lies! The destroyer of my peace! The wretch—the smiling-faced fiend! What am I doing here? Take her out of my sight! I want Mr. Wallingford. I will see him, I say.”

“That will do,” said Everett, coolly; “don’t waste your talents on an unappreciative audience.”’

“I'll have my revenge! I'll make this girl as infamous as she deserves——”

‘Don’t you dare open your lips again!” in terrupted Everett, sternly. ‘Look at this.”

He drew a paper from his pocket, and held it before her eyes—she recognized it at once. Only the year before she and her husband had got a

sum of money from a young fellow under similar circumstances, where Marsden did the  jealous, and it so happened that Harry had been  able to get at all the proofs.

The actress stopped short—the words died in her throat with a low gurgle that was very real. Kate lay perfectly still, with her face buried in her shawl. Once more the door opened, this  time to admit Mr. Wallingford.

‘ Who was calling me? What is the matter?” he asked; then seeing Kate, his voice changed  to one of alarm. ‘Is she ill? Has she fainted?”

“She is better,” Everett said; ‘‘Mrs. Marsden  was frightened and called out.” Mr. Wallingford went up to Kate; the ner vous convulsion returned, but she set her teeth hard together, and neither spoke or moaned.

‘It is a nervous attack,” her uncle said, “Ring the bell, Everett, and send some one for a doctor, and tell Mrs. Fairfield to come here—  the poor child is completely worn out with all   this party-going and dissipation.”

Mrs. Marsden made an effort to speak; be hind the Senator’s back Everett shook the fatal paper at her, and she was cowed instantly. ‘Lie still, Kate,” her uncle said; “don’t try  to speak, you’ll be better soon.”

The servant came. Mrs. Fairfield arrived, armed with camphor, and salts, and brandy; and Everett coolly turned to the fair Lily.

“We had better go, Mrs. Marsden,” he said, politely; ‘Miss Wallingford will be better with just her own family.”

There was nothing else for it. Lily saw the paper in his hand; she just uttered a few com-  monplaces, and got out of the room, passed  Everett in silence, and was glad to find herself in her carriage. �