'Am I so changed?' he said pathetically. 'I dare say I am. But, Norah,
tell me!' he breathed hard, 'where is my wife? Is she--is she alive?'

He came nearer to Norah, and would have taken her hand; but she backed
away from him; looking at him all the time with staring eyes, as if
he were some horrible object. Yet he was a handsome, bronzed,
good-looking fellow, with beard and moustache, giving him a
foreign-looking aspect; but his eyes! there was no mistaking those
eager, beautiful eyes--the very same that Norah had watched not half
an hour ago, till sleep stole softly over them.

'Tell me, Norah--I can bear it--I have feared it so often. Is she
dead?' Norah still kept silence. 'She is dead!' He hung on Norah's
words and looks, as if for confirmation or contradiction.

'What shall I do?' groaned Norah. 'Oh, sir! why did you come? how
did you find me out? where have you been? We thought you dead, we did
indeed!' She poured out words and questions to gain time, as if time
would help her.

'Norah! answer me this question straight, by yes or no--Is my wife
dead?'

'No, she is not,' said Norah, slowly and heavily.

'Oh, what a relief! Did she receive my letters? But perhaps you don't
know. Why did you leave her? Where is she? Oh, Norah, tell me all
quickly!'

'Mr Frank!' said Norah at last, almost driven to bay by her