ll the
time that I have been with him has never yet recognised me; indeed,
there are moments when I am inclined to fear that his brain may be
permanently deranged."

"God forbid!" exclaimed Adela, in a voice that was choked with tears.

"Yes, such a result as that would be indeed a sore calamity. I have every
wish to set your mind at ease, believe me, Mrs. Branston, but in John
Saltram's present state I am sure it would be ill-advised for you to see
him."

"Of course I cannot press the question if you say that," Adela answered
despondently; "but I should have been so glad if you could have allowed
me to see him. Not that I pretend to the smallest right to do so; but we
were very good friends once--before my husband's death. He has changed to
me strangely since that time."

Gilbert felt that it was almost cruel to keep this poor little soul in
utter ignorance of the truth. He did not consider himself at liberty to
say much; but some vague word of warning might serve as a slight check
upon the waste of feeling which was going on in the widow's heart.

"There may be a reason for that change, Mrs. Branston," he said. "Mr.
Saltram may have formed some tie of a kind to withdraw him from all other
friendships."

"Some attachment, you mean!" exclaimed the widow; "some other
attachment," she added, forgetting how much the words betrayed. "Do you
think that, Mr. Fenton? Do you think that John Saltram has some secret
love-affair upon his mind?"

"I have some reason to suspect as much, from words that he has dropped
during his delirium."

There was a look of unspeakable pain in Mrs. Branston's face, which had
grown deadly pale when Gilbert first spoke of John Saltram's illness. The
pretty childish lips quivered a little, and her companion knew that she
was suffering keenly.

"Have you any idea who the lady is?" she asked quietly, and with more
self-command than Gilbert had expected from her.

"I have some idea."

"It is no one whom I know, I suppose?"

"The lady is quite a stranger to you."

"He might have trusted me," she said mournfully; "it would have been
kinder in him to have trusted me."

"Yes, Mrs. Branston; but Mr. Saltram has unfortunately made concealment
the policy of his life. He will find it a false policy sooner or late."

"It was very cruel of him not to tell me the truth. He might have known
that I should look kindly upon any one he cared for. I may be a very
foolish woman, Mr. Fenton, but I am n