"I will go," Helen said, rising hastily. "The day when I shall be glad to accept Mrs. Darcy's offer may not be far distant. I cannot meet her now. You will send me more work to-morrow? Thank you a thousand times, and good-by."
She flitted from the room. In the outer office sat a lady dressed in a black silk walking costume, and wearing a close veil of black lace. The next instant Mrs. Thorndyke was in the street, and Mrs. Darcy was being ushered into Mr. Gilbert's sanctum.
He looked at her curiously. Rather tall, slender, graceful, elegant, that he saw, but—what was there about her that so suddenly made his pulses leap?
Still veiled, she sat down.
"I am a little late for my appointment," she began; "I was unexpectedly detained. I have not kept you waiting, I hope?"
He turned pale—he sat quite silent. He heard the voice, but not the words: his eyes were riveted upon the veil. Who was this woman?
"Mr. Gilbert," she said, falteringly, "I see you know me."
She lifted her veil, and sat before him revealed—Norine.
Norine! After four years—Norine. A gray, ashen pallor came over his face even to his lips. She trembled and shrank before his gaze; she covered her face with her hands and turned away.
"Forgive me!" she said, brokenly. "Oh, forgive me! If you knew how I have suffered, indeed you might."