"
There was a look of unspeakable pain in Mrs. Branston's face, which had
grown deadly pale when Gilbert first spoke of John Saltram's illness. The
pretty childish lips quivered a little, and her companion knew that she
was suffering keenly.
"Have you any idea who the lady is?" she asked quietly, and with more
self-command than Gilbert had expected from her.
"I have some idea."
"It is no one whom I know, I suppose?"
"The lady is quite a stranger to you."
"He might have trusted me," she said mournfully; "it would have been
kinder in him to have trusted me."
"Yes, Mrs. Branston; but Mr. Saltram has unfortunately made concealment
the policy of his life. He will find it a false policy sooner or late."
"It was very cruel of him not to tell me the truth. He might have known
that I should look kindly upon any one he cared for. I may be a very
foolish woman, Mr. Fenton, but I am not ungenerous."
"I am sure of that," Gilbert said warmly, touched by her candour.
"You must let me know every day how your friend is going on, Mr. Fenton,"
Adela said after a pause; "I shall consider it a very great favour if you
will do so."
"I will not fail."
They had returned to Cumberland-gate by this time, and at Gilbert's
request Mrs. Branston allowed him to be set down near the Arch.
Pages:
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495