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