He would no doubt stay in New York to do this; and we cannot
tell how difficult the business might prove, or how long it would occupy
him."
"But if he had been detained like that, he would surely have written to
you," said Marian; "and you have heard nothing from him since he left
England."
"Unhappily nothing. But he is not the best correspondent in the world,
you know."
"Yes, yes, I know that. Yet, in such a case as this, he would surely have
written, if he were well." Her eyes met Gilbert's as she said this. She
stopped abruptly, dismayed by something in his face.
"You are hiding some misfortune from me," she cried; "I can see it in
your face. You have had bad news of him."
"Upon my honour, no. He was not in very strong health when he left
England, that is all; and, like yourself, I am naturally anxious."
He had not meant to admit even as much as this just yet; but having said
this, he found himself compelled to say more. Marian questioned him so
closely, that she finally extorted from him the whole history of John
Saltram's illness. After that it was quite in vain to attempt
consolation. She was very gentle, very patient, troubling him with no
vain wailings and lamentations; but he could see that her heart was
almost broken.
He left her at the end of a few hours to return to London, promising to
go on to Liverpool next day, in order to be on the spot to await her
husband's return, and to send her the earliest possible tidings of it.
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