My love, my darling, come with me!" There was a passionate appeal in his tone, but it produced no answer.
"Marian!" he cried, still interposing himself between these two and the passage to the landing wharf.

"Marian, I will have some answer!" "You have had your answer, sir," said Percival Nowell, trying to push him aside.

"This lady does not know you.

Do you want to make a scene, and render yourself ridiculous to every one here?
There are plenty of lunatic asylums in New York that will accommodate you, if you are determined to make yourself eligible for them." "Marian!" repeated John Saltram, without vouchsafing the faintest notice of this speech.

"Marian, speak to me!" And then, as there came no answer from that shrinking clinging figure, with a sudden spring forward, that brought him quite close to her, John Saltram tore the veil away from the hidden face.
"This must be some impostor," he said; "this is not my wife." He was right.