Mrs. Holbrook.
And, behold, when Gilbert Fenton hurried off post-haste to the village or
town, and presented himself before the lady in question, he found for the
most part that she was ten years older than Marian, and as utterly unlike
her as it was possible for one Englishwoman to be unlike another.

He possessed a portrait of the missing girl--a carefully finished
photograph, which had been given to him in the brief happy time when she
was his promised wife; and he caused this image to be multiplied and
distributed wherever the search for Marian was being made. He neglected
no possible means by which he might hope to obtain tidings; advertising
continually, in town and country, and varying his advertisements in such
a manner as to insure attention either from the object of his inquiries,
or any one acquainted with her.

But all his trouble was in vain. No reply, or, what was worse, worthless
and delusive replies, came to his advertisements. The London police, who
had pretended to be so hopeful at first, began to despair in a visible
manner, having put all their machinery into play, and failed to obtain
even the most insignificant result. They were fain to confess at last
that they could only come to pretty much the same conclusion as that
arrived at by their inferiors, the rustic officials; and agreed that in
all probability the river hid the secret of Marian Holbrook's fate. She
had been the victim of either crime or accident. Who should say which?
The former seemed the more likely, as she had vanished in broad daylight,
when, it was scarcely possible that her footsteps could go astray; while
in that lonely neighbourhood a crime was never impossible.

"She had a watch and chain, I suppose?" the officer inquired. "Ladies
will wear 'em."

Gilbert ascertained from Ellen Carley that Marian had always worn her
watch and chain, had worn them when she left the Grange for the last
time. She had a few other trinkets too, which she wore habitually, quaint
old-fashioned things, of some value.

How well Gilbert remembered those little family treasures, which she had
exhibited to him at Captain Sedgewick's bidding!

"Ah," muttered the officer when he heard this, "quite enough to cost her
her life, if she met with one of your ugly customers. I've known a murder
committed for the sake of three-and-sixpence in my time; and pushing a
young woman into the river don't count for murder among that sort of
people. You see, some on