listen to me, child," her step growing steadier. "Oh dear!
Haven't you any belladonna? Or coffea? That would set me right at once.
As for a husband and children, they are obstructions to a woman--nothing
more. If my head was clear I could make you understand. I am a free
soul. I have my work to do. Marriage is an accident: so is
child-bearing. In nine cases out of ten they hinder a woman's work. But
when I meet a kindred soul, higher, purer than mine, I give allegiance
to it. My feeling becomes a part of my actual life; it is a spiritual
action: it hears and sees by spiritual senses. And then--Ah, there is
something terrible in being alone--_alone_! She called this out loudly,
wringing her hands. Kitty gave a queer smile. It was incredible to her
that a woman could thus dissect herself for the benefit of another.

"But she's talking for her own benefit," watching her shrewdly. "If
there's any acting about it, she's playing Ophelia and Hamlet and the
audience all at once.--Was it Doctor McCall you fancied was in the
shop?" she asked quietly.

Miss Muller turned, a natural blush dyeing her face and neck: "He has
been here then?--Oh, there! there he is!" as the young man came in at
the gate. She passed her hands over her front hair nervously, shook down
her lace sleeves and went out to meet him. Kitty saw his start of
surprise. He stooped, for she was a little woman, and held out both his
hands.

"Yes, John, it is I!" she said with a half sob.

"Are you really so glad to see me again, Maria?" She caught his arm for
her sole answer, and walked on, nestling close to his side.

"It may be spiritual affinity, but it looks very like love," thought
Kitty. It was a different love from any she had known. They turned and
walked through the gate down into the shadow of the wooded creeks, the
broad strong figure leaning over the weaker one. Kitty fancied the
passion in his eyes, the words he would speak. She thought how she had
noticed at first sight that there was unusual strength and tenderness in
the man's face.

"There will be no talk there of new dresses or reformatory schools, I'm
sure of that," she said, preparing to go to bed. She felt somehow
wronged and slighted to-night, and wished for old Peter's knee to rest
on. She had no friend like old Peter, and never would have.

REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

OVERDUE.

The beads from the wine have all vanished,
Which bubbled in brightnes