She was rather a pretty
girl, but had the faded London look of late hours, and precocious cares,
instead of the fresh bloom and girlish brightness which should have
belonged to her.
"Did you please to wish to see the apartments, sir?" she asked politely.
"No; I want to see Mr. and Mrs.--the lady and gentleman who are lodging
here."
He scarcely knew under what name he ought to ask for Marian. It seemed
unnatural to him now to speak of her as Mrs. Holbrook.
"The lady and gentleman, sir!" the girl exclaimed with a surprised air.
"There's no one lodging here now. Mr. Nowell and his daughter left
yesterday morning."
"Left yesterday morning?"
"Yes, sir. They went away to Liverpool; they are going to America--to New
York."
"Mr. Nowell and his daughter, Mrs. Holbrook?"
"Yes, sir, that was the lady's name."
"It's impossible," cried Gilbert; "utterly impossible that Mrs. Holbrook
would go to America! She has ties that would keep her in England; a
husband whom she would never abandon in that manner. There must be some
mistake here."
"O no, indeed, sir, there's no mistake. I saw all the luggage labelled
with my own eyes, and the direction was New York by steam-packet
_Oronoco_; and Mrs. Holbrook had lots of dresses made, and all sorts of
things. And as to her husband, sir, her father told me that he'd treated
her very badly, and that she never meant to go back to him again to be
made unhappy by him.
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