Without answering, without the slightest change in look or manner, Clara took the newspaper from the ground, and read the top line in the column, printed in capital letters: 

THE ARCTIC EXPEDITION.

She waited, and looked at Mrs. Crayford.

“Can you bear to hear it, Lucy,” she asked, “if I read it aloud?”

Mrs. Crayford was too agitated to answer in words.  She signed impatiently to Clara to go on.

Clara read the news which followed the heading in capital letters.  Thus it ran: 

“The following intelligence, from St. Johns, Newfoundland, has reached us for publication.  The whaling-vessel Blythewood is reported to have met with the surviving officers and men of the Expedition in Davis Strait.  Many are stated to be dead, and some are supposed to be missing.  The list of the saved, as collected by the people of the whaler, is not vouched for as being absolutely correct, the circumstances having been adverse to investigation.  The vessel was pressed for time; and the members of the Expedition, all more or less suffering from exhaustion, were not in a position to give the necessary assistance to inquiry.  Further particulars may be looked for by the next mail.”

The list of the survivors followed, beginning with the officers in the order of their rank.  They both read the list together.  The first name was Captain Helding; the second was Lieutenant Crayford.

There the wife’s joy overpowered her.  After a pause, she put her arm around Clara’s waist, and spoke to her.

“Oh, my love!” she murmured, “are you as happy as I am?  Is Frank’s name there too?  The tears are in my eyes.  Read for me—­I can’t read for myself.”

The answer came, in still, sad tones: 

“I have read as far as your husband’s name.  I have no need to read further.”

Mrs. Crayford dashed the tears from her eyes—­steadied herself—­and looked at the newspaper.

On the list of the survivors, the search was vain.  Frank’s name was not among them.  On a second list, headed “Dead or Missing,” the first two names that appeared were: 

FRANCIS ALDERSLEY.  RICHARD WARDOUR.

In speechless distress and dismay, Mrs. Crayford looked at Clara.  Had she force enough in her feeble health to sustain the shock that had fallen on her?  Yes! she bore it with a strange unnatural resignation—­she looked, she spoke, with the sad self-possession of despair.

“I was prepared for it,” she said.  “I saw them in the spirit last night.  Richard Wardour has discovered the truth; and Frank has paid the penalty with his life—­and I, I alone, am to blame.”  She shuddered, and put her hand on her heart.  “We shall not be long parted, Lucy.  I shall go to him.  He will not return to me.”

Those words were spoken with a calm certainty of conviction that was terrible to hear.  “I have no more to say,” she added, after a moment, and rose to return to the house.  Mrs. Crayford caught her by the hand, and forced her to take her seat again.