ade his will, leaving all to me, except ten thousand dollars to Helen
Thorndyke, and an annuity to Liston. Three days after he died.

"What came after, you know--how Laurence Thorndyke, with all his might,
sought to have that will set aside, and how signally he failed. Mr.
Darcy gave his reasons to you and to him plainly and clearly. For his
own crimes he was disinherited. Mr. Darcy's fortune was, and is, mine.

"For the rest, these three years I have spent wandering over Europe. I
have come home to remain this summer and winter, then I go back. I have
come, too, to ask your forgiveness and theirs down at home. Mr.
Gilbert--it is more than I ought to ask, but,--will you not say, 'I
pardon you'?"

She held out her hands imploringly, her eyes full of tears. He took them
in his and clasped them for a moment, looking straight into her eyes.

"With all my heart, Norine! With all my heart I wish you well and
happy!"

* * * * *

Mr. Allison's house is a stately up-town mansion, brown stone, stucco,
and elegance generally; and Mr. Allison's house is all alight and alive
to-night. Mrs. Allison gives a reception, and fair women and brave men
muster strong; and fairest, where all are more or less fair, is the
youthful and wealthy heiress of old Hugh Darcy.

Among the very latest arrivals comes Mr. Laurence Thorndyke. Time has
been when bright eyes brightened, fair cheeks flushed, and delicate
pulses leaped at his coming. That day is over. Time has also been when
among all the golden youth of New York none were more elegant, more
faultless of attire, than Laurence Thorndyke. That day also is over.
Time has been when the most exclusive, most recherche doors of Fifth
avenue flew gladly open at his approach. That day, likewise, is over.
The places that knew him, know him no more; he is an outcast and a
Bohemian; he drinks, he gambles, he is poor; his coat is gray at the
seams; bistre circles surround his eyes; his haggard, handsome face
tells the story of his life. Yet the old elegance and old fascination of
manner, linger still. People rather stare to see him here. Mrs. Allison
frowns. She has flirted desperately with him "ages" ago; but really
bygones should be bygones, and Mr. Thorndyke has gone to the dogs in so
pronounced a manner, and been disinherited for some dreadful doings,
and, really and truly, the line must be drawn somewhere, and it is
inexcusable in Mr. Allison to have asked him at