"Only that I doubt if you will ever see me Adela Branston's husband."

"I can't understand you, John."

"My dear fellow, there is nothing strange in that. There are times when I
cannot understand myself."




CHAPTER X.

JACOB NOWELL.


The days went by, and brought Gilbert Fenton no reply to his
advertisement. He called at the post-office morning and evening, only to
find the same result; and a dull blank feeling, a kind of deadness of
heart and mind, began to steal over him with the progress of the days.
He went through the routine of his business-life steadily enough, working
as hard as he had ever worked; but it was only by a supreme effort that
he could bring his mind to bear upon the details of business--all
interest in his office-work was gone.

The advertisement had appeared for the sixth time, and Gilbert had framed
a second, offering a reward of twenty pounds for any direct evidence of
the marriage of Marian Nowell; when a letter was handed to him one
evening at the post-office--a letter in a common blue envelope, directed
in a curious crabbed hand, and bearing the London post-mark.