the infuriated
man. "Won't you? Take that!" and he planted his fist upon her mouth.

The woman, through her tears and sobs, howled at him curse upon curse.
With one hand upon her throat, he essayed to choke her utterance, and
thus they scuffled about the room.

"I'll cut you, Philip; I will, by ----"

Her hand, in fact, was fumbling about her pocket, and she drew forth a
small knife and thrust it into his shoulder. They were near the table,
over which Philip had thrust her down. He was wild with rage and the
brandy he had drank. His right hand instinctively grasped the heavy
bottle that by chance it came in contact with. The next instant, it
descended full upon her forehead, and with a moan of fear and pain, she
fell like lead upon the floor, and lay bleeding and motionless.

Philip, still grasping the shattered bottle, gazed aghast upon the
lifeless form. Then a cry of terror burst upon his ear. He turned, and
beheld Miranda, with dishevelled hair, pale as her night-clothes,
standing at the threshold of the open door. With a convulsive shudder,
she staggered into the room, and fainted at his feet, her white arm
stained with the blood that was sinking in little pools into the carpet.

He stood there gazing from one to the other, but without seeking to
succor either. The fumes of brandy, and the sudden revulsion from active
wrath to apathy, seemed to stupefy his brain. At last he stooped beside
the outstretched form of Molly, and, with averted face, felt in her
pocket and drew out the key. Stealthily, as if he feared that they could
hear him, he moved toward the door, opened it, and passing through,
closed it gently, as one does who would not waken a sleeping child or
invalid. Rapidly, but with soft steps, he descended the stairs, and went
out into the darkness and the storm.

CHAPTER XVI.

When Miranda awakened from her swoon, the lamp was burning dimly, and
the first light of dawn came faintly through the blinds. All was still
around her, and for some moments she could not recall the terrible scene
which had passed before her eyes. Presently her fingers came in contact
with the clots of gore that were thickening on her garment, and she
arose quickly, and, with a shudder, tottered against the wall. Her eyes
fell upon Moll's white face, the brow mangled and bruised, and the
dishevelled hair soaking in the crimson tide that kept faintly oozing
from the cut. She was alone in the house with that terrible obje