"
After this he lay quiet again for some minutes, exhausted by having
spoken so long. All the factitious strength, which had made him loud and
violent in his delirium, was gone; he seemed as weak as a sick child.
"Where is she?" he asked at last; "why doesn't she come to me? You have
not answered that question."
"I have told you that her place is not here," Gilbert replied evasively.
"You have no right to expect her here, never having given her the right
to come."
"No; it is my own fault. She is in Hampshire still, I suppose. Poor girl,
I would give the world to see her dear face looking down at me. I must
get well and go back to her. When shall I be strong enough to
travel?--to-morrow, or if not to-morrow, the next day; surely the next
day--eh, Gilbert?"
He raised himself in the bed in order to read the answer in Gilbert's
face, but fell back upon the pillows instantly, exhausted by the effort.
Memory had only returned to him in part. It was clear that he had
forgotten the fact of Marian's disappearance,--a fact of which he had
seemed half-conscious long ago in his delirium.
"How did you find out that Marian was my wife?" he asked presently, with
perfect calmness. "Who betrayed my secret?"
"Your own lips, in your delirious talk of her, which has been incessant;
and if collateral evidence were needed to confirm your words, this, which
I found the other day marking a place in your Shakespeare.
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