bitterly repented of when
too late. Now she and Helen and the children were going down for a long
visit. One other guest there was to be--one who had spent every
Christmas at Kent Hill during the past four years--Mr. Gilbert.

"Christmas wouldn't seem like Christmas now without him," Aunt Hetty
said. "I don't believe there's his equal in wide America. A gentleman
from top to toe, if there ever was one yet."

The children Aunt Hetty took to her motherly heart at once--Helen's pale
lips she kissed, and Helen was at home in five minutes, as though she
had known them for years. It was such a blessed, restful place--the
tired heart drew a great sigh of relief, and felt half its weary load
lifted off. For Norine--she was almost the Norine of old, flying up and
down breezy stairways, in and out breezy rooms, the old songs rippling
from her lips, until the thought of the pale, widowed wife down-stairs
made her check them. Then came winter--the first fall of snow--the first
gay sleighing. Little Laurie was wild with delight--even Helen's pale
lips learned to smile. Kent Hill was working a transformation.

Christmas drew near, and among Norine's pleasant duties came that of
decorating Mr. Gilbert's room, the old guest chamber, where he had spent
so many happy, hopeful nights in the time when he had loved her. He
despised her now. Ah, what a wretch she had been! He would despise her
always. Well, she deserved it all; it didn't matter; but--and then a
heavy sigh finished the thought. She was learning the value of what she
had lost when too late.

Christmas arrived--Mr. Gilbert arrived. And Helen's wistful eyes looked
into his face, and asked the question her lips were too proud to shape.

"There is no news," he said softly, as he bent over her chair; "only the
old news. He is well--that is the best I can tell of him."

No more was said. Norine, proud and humble together, rather avoided him.
Still they were of necessity a great deal together, indoors and out,
and, in the genial glow and cheerfulness of the Christmas-time, the
reserve of both melted. It began to be like old times--the bright color,
the gay laugh, the light step, the sparkling eyes, the sweet singing,
made Norine the very Norine of four years ago. And Mr. Gilbert--but Mr.
Gilbert was ever quiet and undemonstrative; his calm, grave face told
little, except that he was quietly happy; that you could see.

Christmas passed, New Year passed, Mr. Gilbert went back to