Accordingly one morning, when he had ascertained that his mother-in-law was away from home, and not likely to return for several hours, he sent up his card to Ivy, who, after some little delay in arranging her toilet, received him in the shabby-genteel little parlor.
In the trembling hope that she might yet win back the recreant, Ivy had made herself as fair as she could without the assistance of her maid, with whose services her mother's parsimony had compelled her to dispense.
"Overdressed and daubed with paint, as usual," was Mr. Noble's disgusted, inward comment, but he allowed none of this feeling to appear upon his face. Instead, he threw a glance of deep tenderness and contrition into his soft, dark eyes, and held out his arms, exclaiming sadly:
"My injured wife! Can you ever forgive me the sorrow I have caused you?"
"Oh, Leslie, you have repented!" the lady sobs, throwing herself into the open arms.
And for a while we will draw the curtain of absence over this touching picture of sacred conjugal love and reunion, while we seek others of our friends.
On the afternoon of that same day Colonel Lockhart received a call from the chief detective.
"I have discovered," he says briefly, "that Mr. Noble has hired a conveyance to take him down into the country about twenty-five miles to-night."