Miss Lucy West and Miss Norine Bourdon sufficient
compensation for the loss of a fortune?"

He rises to his feet, his face flushing dark, angry red.

"_You_ know that?" he exclaims.

She laughs contemptuously.

"I know that; I know much more than that. You did not show me the letter
left by Mr. Darcy for you at his death, but you did not destroy it. That
letter I have read. He states his reasons for disinheriting you plainly
enough, does he not? And for my part, all I have to say is, served you
right."

She rises, gathers her papers together, binds them up, and without
looking at him, sweeps from the room.

"Joanna!" she calls, "look after Laurie and baby. I am going down town."

She dresses herself hastily, and in her cheap hat and muslin dress,
manages somehow to look stylish and distinguished still. She takes an
omnibus, rides to Wall street, and enters Mr. Gilbert's office.

Mr. Gilbert receives her with cordial kindness, takes the papers,
glances over them, pronounces them well done, and gives her two crisp
five-dollar greenbacks. The color comes into her pale cheeks.

"You pay me so much more than the copying is worth," she falters. "Oh,
Mr. Gilbert, good, kind, faithful friend, what would become of me and my
babies but for you?"

He stops her with a quick gesture.

"Hush! not one cent more than the work is justly worth. And all is gone
then, Mrs. Thorndyke?"

"All! all!" she says, drearily; "long ago."

"I know that your marriage portion was squandered the first year, but
Mr. Darcy left you ten thousand dollars at his death. It was left to
you--_he_ could not touch it. You should have kept that."

"Should have kept it! _He_ could not touch it!" She laughs bitterly. "My
dear Mr. Gilbert, don't you know that a married woman can be kicked or
kissed into anything? I will do Mr. Thorndyke the justice to say he
tried both methods while there was a dollar left. If it were not for my
children I would have left him long ago--if it were not for them I could
wish I were dead, Mr. Gilbert." She lays her hand upon his arm and looks
up into his face with blue, glittering eyes. "I have read the letter Mr.
Darcy wrote him before he died."

"You have?" the lawyer says, startled.

"I know the story of Norine Bourdon. Oh, Mr. Gilbert if you were not
more angel than man you would let Laurence Thorndyke's wife and children
starve before your eyes!"

"Hush!" he says again huskily, "for pity's sake, Nellie. I only