There was no fire here to-day, and the room had a desolate unoccupied look, though the sun was shining cheerfully on the old-fashioned many-paned windows.

There were a few books, which Gilbert remembered as Marian's literary treasures, neatly arranged on a rickety old chiffonier by the fire-place, and the desk and work-basket which he had seen on his previous visit.
He was half bewildered by what the woman had told him, and his heart beat tumultuously as he stood by the empty hearth, waiting for Ellen Carley's coming.

It seemed to him as if the girl never would come.

The ticking of an old eight-day clock in the hall had a ghastly sound in the dead silence of the house, and an industrious mouse made itself distinctly heard behind the wainscot.
At last a light rapid footstep came tripping across the hall, and Ellen Carley entered the room.

She was looking paler than when Gilbert had seen her last, and the bright face was very grave.
"For heaven's sake tell me what this means, Miss Carley," Gilbert began eagerly.