"All! all!" she says, drearily; "long ago."
"I know that your marriage portion was squandered the first year, but Mr. Darcy left you ten thousand dollars at his death. It was left to you—he could not touch it. You should have kept that."
"Should have kept it! He could not touch it!" She laughs bitterly. "My dear Mr. Gilbert, don't you know that a married woman can be kicked or kissed into anything? I will do Mr. Thorndyke the justice to say he tried both methods while there was a dollar left. If it were not for my children I would have left him long ago—if it were not for them I could wish I were dead, Mr. Gilbert." She lays her hand upon his arm and looks up into his face with blue, glittering eyes. "I have read the letter Mr. Darcy wrote him before he died."
"You have?" the lawyer says, startled.
"I know the story of Norine Bourdon. Oh, Mr. Gilbert if you were not more angel than man you would let Laurence Thorndyke's wife and children starve before your eyes!"
"Hush!" he says again huskily, "for pity's sake, Nellie. I only wish you would take the money without the work. The betrayer of a loving and innocent girl is in the hands of God—there I leave him. But for you—do you not know that Mrs. Liston-Darcy has made a proposal to me for you?"
"For me? No. I know that she has arrived, that is all. You have seen her, then?"
"Not yet. She is coming to-day; I expect her every moment. She sent me a note telling me of it. It is this: when your life with your husband becomes unendurable—when he forces you to leave him, she is instructed to provide for you and your children. It was Mr. Darcy's wish—it is hers. A home and a competence are yours any day on that condition."
There was a tap at the door.
"Mrs. Liston-Darcy, sir," announced the clerk.