All this time he had been feigning anxiety about the _Proserpine,_ and concealing his real anxiety about the _Shannon._ To do him justice, he lost sight of everything in the world now but Helen.

He sent old Penfold in hot haste to Lloyd's, to inquire for news of the ship; and then he sat down sick at heart; and all he could do now was to open her portrait, and gaze at it through eyes blinded with tears.

Even a vague rumor, which he hoped might be false, had driven all his commercial maneuvers out of him, and made all other calamities seem small.
And so they all are small, compared with the death of the creature we love.
While he sat thus, in a stupor of fear and grief, he heard a well-known voice in the outer office; and, next after Burtenshaw's, it was the one that caused him the most apprehension.

It was his father's.
Wardlaw senior rarely visited the office now; and this was not his hour.
So Arthur knew something extraordinary had brought him up to town.

And he could not doubt that it was the panic, and that he had been to Morland's, or would go there in course of the day; but, indeed, it was more probable that he had already heard something, and was come to investigate.
Wardlaw senior entered the room.
"Good-morning, Arthur," said he.