Ellen had not the courage to tell her the truth.  It was better that Gilbert Fenton should do that, she thought.  He who knew all the circumstances of Mr. Holbrook’s journey, and the probabilities as to his return, would be so much better able to comfort and reassure his wife.

“He will come to-day, I have no doubt,” Ellen said to herself on the morning after her husband’s funeral.

She told Marian how she had written to Mr. Fenton on the day before, in order to avoid the agitation of a surprise, should he appear at the Grange without waiting to announce his coming.  Nor was she mistaken as to the probability of his speedy arrival.  It was not long after noon when there came a loud peal of the bell that rang so rarely.  Ellen ran herself to the gate to admit the visitor.  She had told him of her husband’s death in her last letter, and her widow’s weeds were no surprise to him.  He was pale, but very calm.

“She is well?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes, sir, she is as well as one could look for her to be, poor dear, after what she has gone through.  But she is much changed since last you saw her.  You must prepare yourself for that, sir.  And she is very anxious about her husband.  I don’t know how she’ll take it, when she hears that he has gone to America.”

“Yes, that is a bad business, Mrs. Whitelaw,” Gilbert answered gravely.  “He was not in a fit state to travel, unfortunately.  He was only just recovering from a severe illness, and was as weak as a child.”

“O dear, O dear!  But you won’t tell Mrs. Holbrook that, sir?”

“I won’t tell her more than I can help; of course I don’t want to alarm her; but I am bound to tell her some portion of the truth.  You did her husband a great wrong, you see, Mrs. Whitelaw, when you suspected him of some share in this vile business.  He has shown himself really devoted to her.  I thank God that it has proved so.  And now tell me more about this affair; your letter explains so little.”

“I will tell you all, sir.”

They walked in the garden for about a quarter of an hour before Gilbert went into the house.  Eager as he was to see Marian, he was still more anxious to hear full particulars of that foul plot of which she had been made the victim.  Ellen Whitelaw told him the story very plainly, making no attempt to conceal her husband’s guilty part in the business; and the story being finished, she took him straight to the parlour where he had seen Marian for the first time after her marriage.

It was a warm bright day, and all three windows were open.  Marian was sitting by one of them, with some scrap of work lying forgotten in her lap.  She started up from her seat as Gilbert went into the room, and hastened forward to meet him.

“How good of you to come!” she cried.  “And you have brought me news of my husband?  I am sure of that.”

“Yes, dear Mrs. Holbrook—­Mrs. Saltram; may I not call you by that name now?—­I know all; and have forgiven all.”