shirts, and so on. And then she tried all she could to turn him from
going; but it was no good, as I was telling you, sir, just now. Go he
would, and go he did; looking quite flushed and bright-like when he went
out, so as you'd have scarcely known how ill he'd been. And he left a bit
of a note for you on the chimbley-piece, sir."

Gilbert found the note; a hurried scrawl upon half a sheet, of paper,
twisted up hastily, and unsealed.

"She is found, Gilbert," wrote John Saltram. "Proul has traced the father
to his lair at last, and my darling is with him. They are lodging at 14,
Coleman-street, Tottenham-court-road. I am off this instant. Don't be
angry with me, true and faithful friend; I could not rest an hour away
from her now that she is found. I have no plan of action, but leave all
to the inspiration of the moment. You can follow me whenever you please.
Marian must thank you for your goodness to me. Marian must persuade you
to forgive my sin against you--Ever yours, J.S."

Follow him! yes, of course. Gilbert had no other thought. And she was
found at last, after all their suspense, their torturing anxiety. She was
found; and whatever danger there might be in her association with
Percival Nowell, she was safe so far, and would be speedily extricated
from the perilous alliance by her husband. It seemed at first so happy a
thing that Gilbert could scarcely realise it; and yet, throughout the
weary interval of ignorance as to her fate, he had always declared his
belief in her safety. Had he been really as confident as he had seemed,
as the days had gone by, one after another, without bringing him any
tidings of her? had there been no shapeless terror in his mind, no dark
dread that when the knowledge came, it might be something worse than
ignorance? Yes, now in the sudden fulness of his joy, he knew how much he
had feared, how very near he had been to despair.

But John Saltram, what of him? Was it not at the hazard of his life that
he had gone upon this sudden journey, reckless and excited, in a fever of
hope and delight?

"Providence will surely be good to him," Gilbert thought.

"He bore the journey from town when he was much worse than he is now.
Surely he will bear a somewhat rougher journey now, buoyed up by hope."

The landlady came in presently, and insisted upon giving Mr. Fenton her
own version of the story which he had just heard from her maid; and a
very close and elaborate version it was, though not