You call her Nell.

Where is she ?' As he propounded this question, which Kit's mother echoed, somebody in a room near at hand, uttered a great shriek, and a stout lady in a white dress came running to the door, and supported herself upon the bridegroom's arm.
'Where is she!' cried this lady.

'What news have you brought me?
What has become of her ?' The single gentleman started back, and gazed upon the face of the late Mrs Jarley (that morning wedded to the philosophic George, to the eternal wrath and despair of Mr Slum the poet), with looks of conflicting apprehension, disappointment, and incredulity.

At length he stammered out, 'I ask YOU where she is?
What do you mean ?' 'Oh sir!' cried the bride, 'If you have come here to do her any good, why weren't you here a week ago ?' 'She is not--not dead ?' said the person to whom she addressed herself, turning very pale.
'No, not so bad as that.' 'I thank God!' cried the single gentleman feebly.

'Let me come in.' They drew back to admit him, and when he had entered, closed the door.
'You see in me, good people,' he said, turning to the newly-married couple, 'one to whom life itself is not dearer than the two persons whom I seek.