In the evening he went to the Temple, eager to see John Saltram, from whom he had no intention to keep the secret of his trouble.  He found his friend at home, writing, with his desk pushed against the open window, and the dust and shabbiness of his room dismally obvious in the hot July sunshine.  He started up as Gilbert entered, and the dark face grew suddenly pale.

“You took me by surprise,” he said.  “I didn’t know you were in England.”

“I only landed two days ago,” answered Gilbert, as they shook hands.  “I daresay I startled you a little, dear old fellow, coming in upon you without a moment’s notice, when you fancied I was at the Antipodes.  But, you see, I hunted you up directly I was free.”

“You have done well out yonder, I hope, Gilbert?”

“Yes; everything has gone well enough with me in business.  But my coming home has been a dreary one.”

“How is that?”

“Captain Sedgewick is dead, and Marian Nowell is lost.”

“Lost!  What do you mean by that?”

Mr. Fenton told his friend all that had befallen him since his arrival in England.

“I come to you for counsel and help, John,” he said, when he had finished his story.

“I will give you my help, so far as it is possible for one man to help another in such a business, and my counsel in all honesty,” answered John Saltram; “but I doubt if you will be inclined to receive it.”

“Why should you doubt that?”

“Because it is not likely to agree with your own ideas.”

“Speak out, John.”

“I think that if Miss Nowell had really loved you, she would never have taken this step.  I think that she must have left Lidford in order to escape from her engagement, perhaps expecting your early return.  I believe your pursuit of her can only end in failure and disappointment; and although I am ready to assist you in any manner you wish, I warn you against sacrificing your life to a delusion.”

“It is not under the delusion that Marian Nowell loves me that I am going to search for her,” Gilbert Fenton said slowly, after an interval of silence.  “I am not so weak as to believe that after what has happened, though I have tried to argue with myself, only this afternoon, that she may still be true to me and that there may have been some hidden reason for her conduct.  Granted that she wished to escape from her engagement, she might have trusted to my honour to give her a prompt release the moment I became acquainted with the real state of her feelings.  There must have been some stronger influence than this at work when she left Lidford.  I want to know the true cause of that hurried departure, John.  I want to be sure that Marian Nowell is happy, and in safe hands.”

“By what means do you hope to discover this?”

“I rely a good deal upon repeated advertisements in the Times.  They may bring me tidings of Marian—­if not directly, from some person who has seen her since she left Lidford.”