New York.
And suddenly a blank fell upon Kent Hill, sleighing and skating lost
their zest--the weather grew colder, the dull country duller, and Mrs.
Darcy, at the close of January, abruptly announced her intention of
returning to New York also.

"If you are willing to come, Nellie," she said; "of course if you would
rather remain--"

"I would rather go," Helen answered. "I have been happier here than I
ever thought to be again, but I would rather go."

That settled it. They went. And on the second of February Mrs. Darcy
donned velvet and sables, and set off for Mr. Gilbert's office. Was it
altogether for Helen's sake--altogether for news of Helen's husband?
Well, Mrs. Darcy did not ask herself the question, so no one else
perhaps has any right to do so.

Looking very fresh, very stately, very handsome, she came like a bright
vision into the lawyer's dingy office. A little desultory talk
then--playing with her muff tassels, she asked the old question:

"Was there any news of him?"

"Yes," Mr. Gilbert answered this time; "there is news. He has been very
ill; he has been in a hospital; some blow on the head received in a
drunken brawl. I hunted him up the day he was discharged. A most
pitiable object I found him--penniless, friendless, and still half dazed
from the effects of the blow. I took him to a respectable
boarding-house, paid a month's board in advance, and obtained the
landlady's promise to look after him a little more than usual. He is
there still, but gone back to the old life. I fear all hope for him is
at an end."

Norine's face had fallen in her hands.

"May Heaven forgive me my share in his ruin! Oh, Mr. Gilbert! it may not
be yet too late. Who knows? I will go to him--I will beg his
forgiveness--he shall return to his wife and children. Give me his
address"--she started impetuously to her feet, her face aglow--"I will
go at once."

He gave it to her without a word, written on a slip of paper. As she
took it, she paused and looked at him with clasped hands.

"Mr. Gilbert," she faltered, "if--if I do this will _you_ forgive me?"

He laid his hand on her shoulder, almost as a father might, more moved
than he cared to show.

"I forgive you now," he answered.

She left the house, entered her carriage, and bade the coachman drive to
the address. Then with a glow of new hope, new happiness at her heart,
she fell back. Yes, she would atone for her sin--she would labor with
all her strength to re