me he happened to look at
Mr. Whitelaw during that evening, he found the watchful eyes turned
towards him in the same unpleasant manner. The sensation caused by this
kind of surveillance on the part of the farmer was so obnoxious to him,
that at parting he took occasion to speak of it in a friendly way.

"I fancy you and I must have met before to-night, Mr. Whitelaw," he said;
"or that you must have some notion to that effect. You've looked at me
with an amount of interest my personal merits could scarcely call for."

"No, no, sir," the farmer answered in his usual slow deliberate way; "it
isn't that; I never set eyes on you before I came into this room
to-night. But you see, Ellen, she's interested in you, and I take an
interest in any one she takes to. And we've all of us thought so much
about your searching for that poor young lady that's missing, and taking
such pains, and being so patient-like where another would have given in
at the first set-off--so, altogether, you're a general object of
interest, you see."

Gilbert did not appear particularly flattered by this compliment. He
received it at first with rather an angry look, and then, after a pause,
was vexed with himself for having been annoyed by the man's clumsy
expression of sympathy--for it was sympathy, no doubt, which Mr. Whitelaw
wished to express.

"It has been sad work, so far," he said. "I suppose you can give me no
hint, no kind of advice as to any step to be taken in the future."

"Lord bless you, no sir. Everything that could be done was done before
you came here. Mr. Holbrook didn't leave a stone unturned. He did his
duty as a man and a husband, sir. The poor young lady was
drowned--there's no doubt about that."

"I don't believe it," Gilbert said, with a quiet resolute air, which
seemed quite to startle Mr. Whitelaw.

"You don't believe she was drowned! You mean to say you think she's
alive, then?" he asked, with unusual sharpness and quickness of speech.

"I have a firm conviction that she still lives; that, with God's
blessing, I shall see her again."

"Well, sir," Mr. Whitelaw replied, relapsing into his accustomed
slowness, and rubbing his clumsy chin with his still clumsier hand, in a
thoughtful manner, "of course it ain't my place to go against any
gentleman's convictions--far from it; but if you see Mrs. Holbrook before
the dead rise out of their graves, my name isn't Stephen Whitelaw. You
may waste your time and your trouble, and