way back from the river-bank, about a mile from here; besides that and a solitary cottage here and there, you won’t see a sign of human life for four or five miles.  Anybody might be pushed into the river and made away with in broad daylight, and no one need be the wiser.  The loneliness of the place struck me with an awful fear that afternoon, and from that moment I began to think that I should never see Mrs. Holbrook again.”

“What of her husband?  He was expected on this particular afternoon, you say?”

“He was, sir; but he did not come till the next day.  It was almost dark when I went to the river-bank.  I walked for about three miles and a half, to a gate that opened into the fields by which Mr. Holbrook came across from Malsham.  I knew his wife never went farther than this gate, but used to wait for him here, if she happened to be the first to reach it.  I hurried along, half running all the way, and calling aloud to Mrs. Holbrook every now and then with all my might.  But there was no answer.  Some men in a boat loaded with hay stopped to ask me what was the matter, but they could tell me nothing.  They were coming from Malsham, and had seen no one along the bank.  I called at Mr. Whitelaw’s as I came back, not with much hope that I should hear anything; but what could I do but make inquiries anywhere and everywhere?  I was almost wild with fright by this time.  They could tell me nothing at Wyncomb Farm.  Stephen Whitelaw was alone in the kitchen smoking his pipe by a great fire.  He hadn’t been out all day, he told me, and none of his people had seen or heard anything out of the common.  As to any harm having come to Mrs. Holbrook by the river-bank, he said he didn’t think that was possible, for his men had been at work in the fields near the river all the afternoon, and must have seen or heard if there had been anything wrong.  There was some kind of comfort in this, and I left the farm with my mind a little lighter than it had been when I went in there.  I knew that Stephen Whitelaw was no friend to Mrs. Holbrook; that he had a kind of grudge against her because she had been on some one else’s side—­in—­in something.”  Ellen Carley blushed as she came to this part of her story, and then went on rather hurriedly to hide her confusion.  “He didn’t like her, sir, you see.  I knew this, but I didn’t think it possible he could deceive me in a matter of life and death.  So I came home, hoping to find Mrs. Holbrook there before me.  But there were no signs of her, nor of her husband either, though I had fully expected to see him.  Even father owned that things looked bad now, and he let me send every man about the place—­some one way, and some another—­to hunt for my poor darling.  I went into Crosber myself, though it was getting late by this time, and made inquiries of every creature I knew in the village; but it was all no good:  no one had seen anything of the lady I was looking for.”

“And the husband?” Gilbert asked again; “what of him?”