id, a little reproachfully.

"No, no," she answered; "it is not that at all. It is that---- But
there, I cannot, I must not hear you any further. Please do not say
any more about it; I beg of you to forget that you have ever told me of
it."

"But I _must_ say more," cried Browne. "I love you, and I cannot and
will not live without you. I believe that you love me, Katherine; upon
my honour I do. If so, why should you be so cruel to me? Will you
answer me one question, honestly and straight-forwardly?"

"What is it?"

"Will you be my wife?"

"I cannot. It is impossible," she cried, this time as if her heart
were breaking. "It is useless to say more. Such a thing could never
be."

"But if you love me, it both can and shall be," replied Browne. "If
you love me, there is nothing that can separate us."

"There is everything. You do not know how impossible it is."

"If there is a difficulty I will remove it. It shall cease to exist.
Come, Katherine, tell me that you love me."

She did not reply.

"Will you not confess it?" he repeated. "You know what your answer
means to me. Say that you do, and nothing shall part us; I swear it.
If you do not, then I give you my word I will go away, and never let
you see my face again."

This time she looked up at him with her beautiful eyes full of tears.

"I _do_ love you," she whispered; and then added, in a louder voice,
"but what is the use of my saying so, when it can make no difference?"

"It makes all the difference in the world, darling," cried Browne, with
a triumph in his voice that had not been there a moment before. "Now
that I know you love me, I can act. I am not afraid of anything."
Before she could protest he had taken her in his arms and covered her
face with kisses. She struggled to escape, but he was too strong for
her. At last he let her go.

"Oh! you do not know what you are doing," she cried. "Why will you not
listen to me and go away before it is too late? I tell you again and
again that you are deluding yourself with false hopes. Come what may,
I can never be your wife. It is impossible."

"Since you have confessed that you love me, we will see about that,"
said Browne quietly but determinedly. "In the meantime, remember that
I am your affianced lover. Nothing can alter that. But, hark! if I am
not mistaken, I hear Madame Bernstein."

A moment later the lady in question entered the room. She glanced from
one to the other