"Did you not know—can it be possible that—Mr. Gilbert, the world says Helen is to be your wife!"
His look of amaze and consternation was so great that she laughed outright—Norine's own sweet, soft laugh.
"Good Heaven!" he said. "What preposterous nonsense! Why, only yesterday Helen was urging me to speak to you—the very folly I am guilty of to-day. She was absurd enough to imagine I had still a chance left. I speedily convinced her of the contrary."
"Did you?" Norine said, a roguish smile dimpling the pretty mouth. "But then Mr. Gilbert is famous as a special pleader, and poor Nellie is so weakly credulous. I don't believe you would find it so easy to convince me."
"Norine!" he stood still, his face pale, his eyes startled, "for pity's sake what is it you mean? Don't let me hope only to fool me again! I—I couldn't bear that!"
She came forward, both hands eloquently outstretched, a smile quivering on her lips, tears in the dusk, lovely eyes.
"Richard, see! I love you with all my heart—I have loved you for years. Let me atone for the past—let me keep the plight I broke so long ago—let me be your wife. Life can hold no happiness half so great as that for me!"
And then, as he folded her in his arms close to the heart that would shelter her forever, Helen's happy voice came borne to them where they stood.
"Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me;
Say I'm growing old, but add—
Jenny kissed me!"
