e and delightful luxury. Would she go? Yes, she would
go, but Miss Bourdon said it spiritlessly enough. And so the sleigh was
brought round, and at ten o'clock in the crisp, yellow sunshine, the
pair started.

But it must have been a much duller spirit than that of Norine that
could have remained dull in that dazzling sunshine, that swift rush
through the still frozen air. A lovely rose-pink came into her pale
cheeks, a bright light into her brown eyes, her laugh rang out, she was
herself as he had first known her once more.

"How splendid winter is, after all!" she exclaimed; "look at those
crystallized hemlocks--did you ever see anything so beautiful? I
sometimes wonder how I can find it so dreary."

"You do find it dreary, then?"

"Oh, so dreary--so long--so humdrum--so dull!" She checked herself with
one of her pretty French gestures. "It seems ungrateful to say so, but I
can't help it. Life seems hardly worth the living sometimes here."

"Here! Would it be better elsewhere?"

"Yes--I think so. Change is always pleasant. One grows dull and stupid
living in one dull stupid place forever. Change is what I want, novelty
is delight."

"Let me offer it to you then, Norine. Come to New York with me."

"Mr. Gilbert! With you!"

"With me--as my wife, I love you, Norine."

It was said. The old formula, the commonplace words that are to tell
all that is in a heart full to overflowing. He sat very pale, beyond
that and a certain nervous twitching of his face there was nothing to
tell that all the happiness of his life hung on her reply. For her--she
just looked at him blankly, incredulous--with wide open eyes of wonder.

"Your wife! Marry _you_! Mr. Gilbert!"

"I love you, Norine. It seems strange you have not known it until I tell
it. I am double your age, but I will do my best to make you happy. Ah,
Norine, if you knew how long I have thought of this--how dearly I love
you, you would surely not refuse. I am a rich man, and all I have is
yours. The world you have longed to see, you shall see. Be my wife
Norine, and come with me to New York."

The first shock of surprise was over. She sat very still, looking
straight out before her at the dazzling expanse of sun and snow. His
words awoke no answering thrill in her heart, and yet she was conscious
of a sense of pleasure. Be his wife--well, why not? The prospect of a
new life broke upon her--the bright, exciting, ever-new life of a great
city. She thought of that