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When he saw the lighted windows of Mr. Kemble's residence, he
moaned as if in physical pain. A sudden and immeasurable longing
to see, to speak with Helen once before she was again irrevocably
committed to Nichol, possessed him. He even went to her gate to
carry out his impulse, then curbed himself and returned resolutely
to his dwelling. As soon as his step was on the porch, the door
opened and Mr. Kemble gave him the warm grasp of friendship.
Without a word, the two men entered the sitting-room, sat down by
the ruddy fire, and looked at each other, Martine with intense,
questioning anxiety in his haggard face. The banker nodded gravely
as he said, "Yes, she knows."
"It's as I said it would be?" Martine added huskily, after a
moment or two.
"Well, my friend, she said you would understand her better than
any one else. She wrote you this note."
Martine's hands so trembled that he could scarcely break the seal.
He sat looking at the tear-blurred words some little time, and
grew evidently calmer, then faltered, "Yes, it's well to remember
God at such a time.


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