All this resulted in a busy afternoon for Lawyer Levy.  Covington returned the affidavit to him and left him free to proceed or not, as he saw fit.  Levy’s delight was unbounded—­“it was such a nice case.”  Buckner was quickly summoned to the lawyer’s office and a new agreement drawn between them, which gave special joy to Buckner, as it meant an increased supply of money and a renewed lease of life in New York City, which he had learned to “love.”  Besides the agreement, he was asked to sign a letter to Mrs. Gorham, which had been carefully worded by Levy and was filled with lurid descriptions of his affection and loneliness.  He had accidentally become aware of the fact that their separation was not legal, and the unexpected knowledge had served to revive in him all the fondness of the early days.  He had mastered the curse of drink which had brought about their estrangement, and needed her companionship and care.  He regretted the inconvenience which it might occasion, but Mr. Gorham had everything while he had nothing but the affection which he felt for her—­and that as she was now, and always had been his wife, he demanded his rights.

Levy had known men to change their minds, and in order to prevent any such misfortune he despatched the letter by special messenger early in the evening.  Gorham had returned late and betook himself to the library immediately after dinner to consider the new business complications with great care before grappling with the situation on the following day.  He was still meditating when he was surprised to see Eleanor enter the room, with an expression on her face which at once made him forget his own perplexities.

“Why, Eleanor!” he cried, “what has gone wrong with you?”

Mrs. Gorham took her favorite seat on the arm of her husband’s chair, and he drew her to him.

“I saw Ralph Buckner while out driving a few weeks ago,” she said in response to his question.  “It unnerved me at the time, and I have been apprehensive ever since.  I did not tell you about it, as there seemed nothing on which to base my fears, and you were so occupied.  I hesitate even now to add to your burdens, but this letter has just come, and you should see it.”

As she spoke she placed the open letter in his hand, and he read it carefully.

“There can be nothing to this—­can there?” she asked, her lip trembling and her whole expression showing how eagerly she awaited his answer.

“Eleanor,” he said, softly, drawing her onto his lap, and soothing her with the tenderness a mother would have shown an anxious child.  He held her pressed closely to him for so long a time in silence that at last she became frightened She sat upright and, placing a hand on either shoulder, regarded him searchingly.

“Robert,” she cried, aghast, “you don’t believe—­”

Then he told her the news which James Riley had brought him, and of his efforts to learn more.