e heard his
breath come hard. When he said, in a crisp, queer staccato that was not
his voice at all:

"If Basil Kildare has hurt you, I shall kill him."

"No, no," she gasped out. "It is not Basil. It is you!" She would have
given years of her life to recall the words the instant they were
spoken.

"I? _I_ have hurt you, I, who would--But tell me! You must tell me!"

His will was stronger than hers. She told him.

"I saw you--kiss her."

"Kiss--"

"Your wife." She was close to hysteria now, all hope of self-command
gone. She caught him by the arm. "Jacques, do you love her? I never
knew, I never thought--Oh, but you _can't_ love her! It is impossible,
Jacques. Why don't you answer me?"

He was shivering as if with a chill. "That is a question you have no
right to ask."

"I--no right?" She laughed aloud. "What do rights matter? Besides, I
have every right, because it is me you love, me! I know it by your eyes,
your voice. See, you are afraid to touch me. And yet you kiss her! Why?
Why?"

She could barely hear the answer. "Because--it makes her a little
happy."

She laughed again, brokenly. "You hypocrite!"

"No, not quite a hypocrite--" he got it out in jerks. "She cares for me.
She needs me. She has given me our son. If one cannot have--the moon--at
least there are stars."

She knelt facing him, with her hands out, whispering desperately, "But
if you can have the moon, if you can--? Oh, my dear, my dear! Why don't
you take me?"

He took her then, held her so close that his heart shook her body as if
it were her own, kissed her eyes, her hair, her lips, until she was
ashamed and put up her hands before her face so that he might kiss only
them.

At last he put her from him, and went without a word back to his wife.

CHAPTER VI

The older Kate, looking from her eyrie at that other self of hers as at
some stranger she had once known and pitied, saw a girl who wore her
secret in her face, careless of who might read. Indeed she rather hoped
the world would read; she had no shame of loving.

The negroes, sensitive as devoted dogs to the mood of their mistress,
vied with each other in serving her, and whispered uneasily behind her
back. Several times the mulatto nurse, Mahaly, more often with her than
the others, seemed about to speak to her of something, but lost courage.

Kate did not notice. She noticed very little that went on around her in
those days. Sometimes, indeed, she caught the ha