able restaurant up-town. The time was
still several hours away.

"You must go to Norman."

She sat in deep reflection.

"It is your only chance--your only hope. Give me authority to act for
you, and go to him. He needs you."

"If I thought he would forgive me?" she said in a low tone.

"He will. I have just come from him. Write me the authority and go at
once."

A light appeared to dawn in her face.

She rose suddenly.

"What shall I write?"

"Write simply that I have full authority to act for you--and that you
have gone to Norman."

She walked into the next room, and seating herself at an escritoire, she
wrote for a short time. When she handed the paper to Keith it contained
just what he had requested: a simple statement to F.C. Wickersham that
Mr. Keith had full authority to represent her and act for her as he
deemed best.

"Will that do?" she asked.

"I think so," said Keith. "Now go. Norman is waiting."

CHAPTER XXXIII

RECONCILIATION

For some time after Keith left her Mrs. Wentworth sat absolutely
motionless, her eyes half closed, her lips drawn tight, in deep
reflection. Presently she changed her seat and ensconced herself in the
corner of a divan, leaning her head on her hand; but her expression did
not change. Her mind was evidently working in the same channel. A tumult
raged within her breast, but her face was set sphinx-like, inscrutable.
Just then there was a scurry up-stairs; a boy's voice was
heard shouting:

"See here, what papa sent us."

There was an answering shout, and then an uproar of childish delight. A
sudden change swept over her. Light appeared to break upon her.
Something like courage came into her face, not unmingled with
tenderness, softening it and dispelling the gloom which had clouded it.
She rose suddenly and walked with a swift, decisive step out of the room
and up the richly carpeted stairs. To a maid on the upper floor she said
hurriedly: "Tell Fenderson to order the brougham--at once," and passed
into her chamber.

Closing the door, she locked it. She opened a safe built in the wall; a
package of letters fell out into the room. A spasm almost of loathing
crossed her face. She picked up the letters and began to tear them up
with almost violence, throwing the fragments into the grate as though
they soiled her hands. Going back to the safe, she took out box after
box of jewelry, opening them to glance in and see that the jewels were
there. Yes, they were th