wish you
would take the money without the work. The betrayer of a loving and
innocent girl is in the hands of God--there I leave him. But for you--do
you not know that Mrs. Liston-Darcy has made a proposal to me for you?"

"For me? No. I know that she has arrived, that is all. You have seen
her, then?"

"Not yet. She is coming to-day; I expect her every moment. She sent me a
note telling me of it. It is this: when your life with your husband
becomes unendurable--when he forces you to leave him, she is instructed
to provide for you and your children. It was Mr. Darcy's wish--it is
hers. A home and a competence are yours any day on that condition."

There was a tap at the door.

"Mrs. Liston-Darcy, sir," announced the clerk.

"I will go," Helen said, rising hastily. "The day when I shall be glad
to accept Mrs. Darcy's offer may not be far distant. I cannot meet her
now. You will send me more work to-morrow? Thank you a thousand times,
and good-by."

She flitted from the room. In the outer office sat a lady dressed in a
black silk walking costume, and wearing a close veil of black lace. The
next instant Mrs. Thorndyke was in the street, and Mrs. Darcy was being
ushered into Mr. Gilbert's sanctum.

He looked at her curiously. Rather tall, slender, graceful, elegant,
that he saw, but--what was there about her that so suddenly made his
pulses leap?

Still veiled, she sat down.

"I am a little late for my appointment," she began; "I was unexpectedly
detained. I have not kept you waiting, I hope?"

He turned pale--he sat quite silent. He heard the voice, but not the
words: his eyes were riveted upon the veil. _Who_ was this woman?

"Mr. Gilbert," she said, falteringly, "I see you know me."

She lifted her veil, and sat before him revealed--Norine.

Norine! After four years--Norine. A gray, ashen pallor came over his
face even to his lips. She trembled and shrank before his gaze; she
covered her face with her hands and turned away.

"Forgive me!" she said, brokenly. "Oh, forgive me! If you knew how I
have suffered, indeed you might."

He put his hand to his head in a dazed way for a second. Then, with a
sort of shake, he aroused himself to every-day life again.

"Norine," he said, "is it indeed you? Little Norine! They told me it was
Mrs. Liston-Darcy."

"It is Mrs. Darcy. I am Hugh Darcy's adopted daughter."

He stared at her bewildered.

"_You!_ Her name was Jane Liston."

"Her name was Norine Bourdo