e may come by and fish her out again; so it can't
well be more than manslaughter."

A dull horror came over Gilbert Fenton as he heard these professional
speculations, but at the worst he could not bring himself to believe that
these men were right, and that the woman he loved had been the victim of
some obscure wretch's greed, slain in broad daylight for the sake of a
few pounds' worth of jewelry.

When everything had been done that was possible to be done in that part
of the country, Mr. Fenton went back to London. But not before he had
become very familiar with the household at the Grange. From the first he
had liked and trusted Ellen Carley, deeply touched by her fidelity to
Marian. He made a point of dropping in at the Grange every evening, when
not away from Crosber following up some delusive track started by his
metropolitan counsellors. He always went there with a faint hope that
Ellen Carley might have something to tell him, and with a vague notion
that John Holbrook might return unexpectedly, and that they two might
meet in the old farm-house. But Mr. Holbrook did not reappear, nor had
Ellen any tidings for her evening visitor; though she thought of little
else than Marian, and never let a day pass without making some small
effort to obtain a clue to that mystery which now seemed so hopeless.
Gilbert grew to be quite at home in the little wainscoted parlour at the
Grange, smoking his cigar there nightly in a tranquil contemplative mood,
while Mr. Carley puffed vigorously at his long clay pipe. There was a
special charm for him in the place that had so long being Marian's home.
He felt nearer to her, somehow, under that roof, and as if he must needs
be on the right road to some discovery. The bailiff, although prone to
silence, seemed to derive considerable gratification from Mr. Fenton's
visits, and talked to that gentleman with greater freedom than he was
wont to display in his intercourse with mankind. Ellen was not always
present during the whole of the evening, and in her absence the bailiff
would unbosom himself to Gilbert on the subject of his daughter's
undutiful conduct; telling him what a prosperous marriage the girl might
make if she had only common sense enough to see her own interests in the
right light, and wasn't the most obstinate self-willed hussy that ever
set her own foolish whims and fancies against a father's wishes.

"But a woman's fancies sometimes mean a very deep feeling, Mr. Carley,"