for reform--total
amendment of life--try sculpture and become a respectable member of
society. Meantime he would see all he could of Mrs. Darcy.

By Jove! how handsome she had looked--what thoroughbred good style she
was! And if--hidden under all this outward coldness--the old love still
lay, how easy for him to fan the smoldering embers into bright flames.
And then--?

A vision rose before him--Helen, in the shabby rooms at home, writing
far into the night, to earn the bread his children ate. Whilst Helen
lived, let his uncle's heiress love him never so well, what could it
avail him? "There is the law of divorce," whispered the small voice of
the tempter. "To the man who wills, all things are possible. Mr. Darcy's
fortune, and Mr. Darcy's heiress may be yours yet. You have played for
high stakes before to-night, Laurence, my boy. Play your cards with care
now, and you hold the winning hand?"

From that night a change began in Laurence Thorndyke--began on the spot.
Once more, that night, he had spoken to Mrs. Darcy--then it was to say
farewell.

"You have told me you will accept me as an acquaintance," he said very
quietly. "Life has gone hardly with me of late, and I have learned to be
thankful even for small mercies. For what you have promised I thank you,
and--will not easily forget it."

She bowed--gleams of scorn in her dark, brilliant eyes. So they had
parted, and very grave and thoughtful Mr. Thorndyke went home.

The change began. Less drinking, less gambling, better hours. His wife
looked on with suspicious eyes. She had reason to suspect. When Satan
turns saint, Satan's relatives have cause to be on the alert.

"Given up gambling and going to try sculpture! Leon Saroni has given you
the run of his studies, has he? I don't understand all this, Mr.
Thorndyke. What new project have you in your head now?"

"Going to turn over a new leaf, Nellie. Give you my word I am," replies
Mr. Thorndyke, keeping his temper with admirable patience. "Going in for
legitimate industry and fame. I always felt I had a genius for
sculpture. I feel it now more than ever. Soon, very soon, you may throw
this beastly copying to the dogs, and we will live in comfort once
more."

The wonder and incredulity of his wife's face, as she turned back to her
writing, infuriated him. But he had his own reasons for standing well,
even with her, just at present.

"Nellie," he said, and he stooped to kiss her, "I've been a brute to
you,