o
thought of him in my mind, except the hope that we might never meet. We
did meet, and when I saw his growing admiration for myself, I--Nellie,
forgive me if you can--I _did_ encourage it. I wonder at my own
wickedness now; I am sorry, sorry, sorry. I know I should never have
brought you here that night. Badly as he treated you, you were happier
with him than you are now. And I parted you. Nellie, forgive me!"

Something that was almost color flushed into the pale face--something
that was almost light into the blue eyes. The soft lips set themselves
firmly.

"There is nothing to forgive. I thank you for having brought me here
that night. Sooner or later I would have known all. And I was not his
wife he said--you were--not I. 'In any case, I will have a divorce.'
Have you forgotten those words? 'I never cared for her--I loathe her
now--I married her for her dower.' Have you forgotten _that_? He
deserved all. I don't blame you. We are only human, and I say again I am
glad I know. I suffer, but no blame attaches to you for that suffering.
He was treading the down-hill road before you came; he is only finishing
the journey as it would have been finished in any case. I hate myself
for my own misery. I hate myself that I cannot tear every thought of him
out of my heart. But I think of the past, and I cannot."

She broke down suddenly, violently, passionately almost, for the first
time, into wild, hysterical weeping. Norine took her in her arms, her
own tears falling, and let her sob her sorrow out. The paroxysm was
brief as it was stormy. She drew herself away suddenly, and buried her
face, among the pillows.

"Don't mind me, please," she said; "don't talk to me. I am ashamed of my
own weakness, but--"

Norine kissed her very tenderly.

"I am glad to see you cry, Nellie--anything is better than this dry,
stony grief. I will take the babies down to supper, and send you up
yours. And Nellie, dear, you must eat it; remember we start on a journey
to-morrow."

The journey was to Kent Hill, where they were to stay over Christmas and
New Year. Norine had made one flying visit already--had been clasped in
Aunt Hetty's arms, had kissed Uncle Reuben's sunburnt cheek, had heard
Uncle Joe's husky "Right glad to see you back, Norry," and--that was
all. She took the old place, and, after one twilight talk, the past was
never referred to. Truthfully and simply she told them all, not even
excepting the darkest part--her own revenge