He was very considerate of his wife in that long journey to the seashore, evincing such care for her comfort as to impress Fanny in spite of her shallow nature; but he was far from happy himself. He had made a successful speculation, and was on the high road to fortune. Yet he thought more of the past than he did of the future. And every caress he received from Fanny brought to his mind some corresponding caress that he had received from that other wife. He could not help thinking about her and his boy. He wondered what Norine would think of him if she knew. But then she would never know; and if she did? He was secure. She could not mar his fortune now. He thought of her all through that rapid journey. So it was not to be wondered at that his mind was still full of her when he arrived at New York. Their stateroom was already secured, and the steamer was to sail the next day. They might have gone directly on board; but Elwell thought it better to stay that last night on shore, that they might get as much rest as possible. So they were driven to the Waldorf, where they had a very comfortable dinner served in their rooms. They were content to rest. And it was late in the afternoon before Elwell thought of leaving their apartments. “I will go down to the office,” he said to Fanny, “and telegraph a last word to father.” He went out into the corridor, and then stopped, struck dumb. There, coming directly toward him, leading a sunny-haired child by the hand, was Norine! She had not seen him yet, and he managed to stagger back into his room and close the door; but he was completely upset, and his white set face, as he fell into a chair, drew a scream of alarm from Fanny. “What is it, James? What is the matter?” she cried. There was wine on the table, and a tumbler of water. Throwing the water away, he filled the goblet full of wine and drank it all. Then he turned to Fanny. “It is nothing,” he said hoarsely--“nothing that I am not used to.” But all the time his brain was surging with the wonder of it. How came she there? And his brain seemed to take up the refrain, and throb. How came she there? how came she there? how came she there? Fanny moved to the bell to call for assistance. She was terribly frightened at this sudden change in her husband. But he pulled himself together in time to prevent her. “It is nothing,” he said; “don’t be alarmed. It will pass away in a moment.” He threw himself down on a sofa, and as the strong wine went to his brain, he became calmer, and could laugh at Fanny for her fright. “I will sleep a little,” he said, “and then it will be all over;” and under the influence of the fatigue, the surprise, and the wine, he sank into a fitful doze. Only once did he seem to be asleep, and then his lips moved, and his wife bent down to hear what he said. It was: “Norine--Clinton!”