mental confusion as painful as it seemed hopeless. He became so troubled that it was inevitable Alice should notice his uneasiness, and he was not in the least surprised when one evening she said to him:-- "George, what is the matter? Are you worrying about me?" He had prepared himself over and over to answer such a question, but now he only hesitated and stumbled. "Why--what makes you think anything is the matter?" "I know there is; and I'm sure it's my fainting-spells." She had come to speak of her seizures by this term, and George had accepted it, secretly glad that she had no idea worse than that of loss of consciousness. "Why, of course I am troubled, so long as you are not well, but--" "You don't like to tell me what is the matter," she went on calmly, but with an earnestness which showed she had thought long on the matter. "I dare say I should n't be any better for knowing, and I can trust you; but I know you are worrying, and it troubles me." His resolution was taken at once. "See here, Alice," he said, "the truth is that you need to get away from Boston and have an entire change of scene and climate. You used to be a good sailor, and a sea voyage will set you up. I'm going to marry you next week and take you to Italy." "Why, George, you can't!" "I shall." "Even if I were well, I could n't be ready." "Who cares? As to being well, you are going so you may get well. When I order patients to go away for their health, I expect them to go." She became serious, and looked at him with eyes of infinite sadness. "Dear George," she said, "I can't marry you just to be a patient. You must n't go through life encumbered by an invalid wife." "I've no notion of doing anything of the kind," he responded brightly. "It would be too poor an advertisement, and that's the reason I insist on taking you abroad. What day do you choose, Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday? We sail Saturday." He would listen to no objections, but got Thursday fixed for the wedding, and pushed forward rapidly his preparations for going abroad. He enlisted the coöperation of a cousin of Alice, an efficient lady accustomed to carry everything before her, and, as Abby warmly approved of his decision, he felt that Alice would be ready. He saw Alice but briefly until Sunday evening, when he found her in a state of much agitation. "I am really out of my mind," she said. "What do you think I have done?" "I don't care, if you have n't changed your mind about Thursday." "I ought to change my mind. Oh, George, I've no right--" "That is settled," he interrupted decisively. "What have you done that is so dreadful?" She produced a waist of dove-colored silk. "Of course I could n't be married in black, you know, and this was to be my dress. See here." The front of the waist was cut and slashed from top to bottom. "I must have done it some time to-day. Oh, George, it's dreadful!"