all.

"No one invites him now," Mrs. Allison says, indignantly. "Both he and
Helen are socially extinct. They say she takes in sewing, and lives in a
dreadful tenement house away over by the East River--and with dear Mrs.
Liston-Darcy here and everything! Of course it can't be pleasant for
them to meet. He contested the will--if he should make a scene
to-night!--good heavens! No doubt he is half-tipsy--they say he always
_is_ half-tipsy--and look at his dress! You ought to be ashamed of
yourself, Arthur Allison, for asking him!"

"Couldn't help it, Hattie--give you my word now," responds Arthur
meekly; "he as good as asked me to ask him, when he heard Mrs. Darcy was
coming. And he wants to be introduced, and I've promised, and there's no
use making a fuss now. He isn't tipsy, and I don't believe there will be
a scene. I'll introduce him at once; the sooner it's over, the better."

He goes off uneasily, and leads Mr. Thorndyke into an inner room, where
a lady sits at the piano, singing. A lady elegantly dressed in white
silk, and violet trimmings, with a white perfumery rose in her black
hair. Her face is averted--Mr. Thorndyke glares vindictively at the
woman who has ousted him out of a fortune. She is a beautiful singer,
and somehow--somehow, the sweet powerful contralto tones are strangely
familiar. Can he have ever heard her before?

She finishes. Mr. Allison draws near the piano.

"Mrs. Darcy," he says, clearing his throat, "will you allow me to
introduce to you Mr. Thorndyke?"

She is laughingly responding to a complimentary gentleman beside her.
With that smile still on her lips she turns slowly round, lifting up her
eyes. And with a gasping sound that is neither word nor cry, Laurence
Thorndyke stands face to face once more with Norine.

CHAPTER XIX.

"WHOM THE GODS WISH TO DESTROY THEY FIRST MAKE MAD."

Norine! And like this, after four years, these two meet again.

Norine! His lips shape the word, but no sound follows. He stands before
her destitute of all power to speak or move. Lost in a trance of wonder,
he remains looking down upon the fair, smiling, upturned face, utterly
confounded.

"I am very pleased to meet Mr. Thorndyke. By reputation I know him
well."

These audacious words, smilingly spoken, reach his ear. She bows, taps
her fan lightly, and makes some airy remark to her host. And still
Laurence Thorndyke stands petrified. She notices, lifts her eyebrows,
and ever so slightly