Gordon, as he and Henry descended the stairs; "and you may depend upon having a telegram from me should a change for the worse take place."

The two gentlemen parted at the door of the hospital, the one to wend his way homeward after his arduous duties, and the other to find himself in the streets of London on a Sunday night within half an hour of midnight.

He had left his own carpet bag at an hotel near Guy's, and here, after a day of excitement and fatigue, he was at last able to take some slight refreshment. Although almost without appet.i.te he felt it as a duty he owed himself to try to eat a little.

"I must telegraph home and to the rectory in the morning," he said to himself as he sought this pillow; "if I stay in London till to-morrow I may perhaps hear something of this carpet bag which appears to disturb poor Arthur's mind so terribly."

Early next morning Henry was down at the wharf described by Dr. Gordon, and, without acknowledging his relationship, questioned those on the spot about the gentleman who had fallen into the water on the previous Friday.

Full particulars were soon obtained of the accident, and then his informant remarked--

"I suppose you see'd an account of the haccident in the papers, master?"

"No," he replied, almost with a start; "what paper is it in?"

"Oh, pretty nigh all on 'em, for you see we thought for sure the gentleman were dead; but he frightened the two bobbies that went with him in the cab above a bit by jumping up and crying out about his carpet bag. I suppose there was some valuables in that 'ere bag, but the Thames searchers have been a-looking for it ever since, and they ain't seen nothing on it yet."

Henry gave the man a gratuity, which made him touch the brim of his hat in token of approval.

Henry turned again as he moved to go--"Do you know the men who are searchers of the Thames?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, I knows 'em well."

"Tell them, then, that if they find this bag, and will send it to the Terminus Hotel, London Bridge, I will take care they are paid well for their trouble."

"I'll tell 'em, sir, all right," said the man.

Henry Halford returned to the hotel, and made an arrangement with the waiter respecting the missing bag.

"You can telegraph to me when it arrives," said Henry; "and if the men refuse to leave it, tell them to bring it again in a few hours and wait for me. Here is my card and address. You will be sure to attend to this, for it is very important."

"You may depend upon me, sir," said the man.

And then Henry turned his steps once more to Guy's Hospital.

Dr. Gordon was absent, but the house surgeon sent for Mr. Halford to his private room.

"I do not consider Mr. Franklyn worse or better," he said, in answer to Henry's inquiries. "He is quieter to-day, but with no lucid intervals. I think, however, that the disease is working itself out, and there is nothing for us but patience. Will you see him?"

"No, thank you, I think not to-day; but you will let me know when a change takes place?"

"Without fail, Mr. Halford, you may depend upon that."

The gentlemen parted cordially, and Henry, calling a cab, was driven to the Euston Station, almost dreading the return home, where he should appear as the bearer of such painful tidings.

While in the train Henry Halford reflected anxiously on what could be deposited in this carpet bag to cause his brother-in-law such painful anxiety. He had also not been able to discover to what steamer he was proceeding when attempting to cross the plank. All he could ascertain from the men about the wharf was that two or three steamers were moored alongside each other, one of them being a large Melbourne packet.

"Arthur could not have intended to leave England, or his children," said Henry to himself, "without informing us of his intentions, or taking leave of them."

This idea seemed so utterly improbable that Henry dismissed it from his mind as absurd.

"I will say nothing to excite suspicion at home," he thought. "There is real trouble enough in his illness without adding to it by conjecture of evil. We must wait patiently, and hope and pray for the poor fellow's recovery."

Henry Halford did not know that Arthur's boxes had been carried on sh.o.r.e from the Melbourne packet at Gravesend because the pa.s.senger whose name they bore was not on board when the ship arrived there. But the name on these boxes was not Franklyn.

Henry's appearance at Englefield Grange was hailed with trembling anxiety.

"Oh, uncle Henry," exclaimed Clara, with pale lips, "how is dear papa?

We know all about the accident--it's in the _Times_."

"Stay, Clara dear," said Kate Marston; "your uncle looks tired and anxious. Only tell us one thing, Henry: have you seen Arthur, and is he still living?"

"Yes, Kate; he is in Guy's Hospital, and receiving every attention and kindness, but he is indeed most seriously ill. Don't grieve, my dear Clara," he continued, putting his arm round his niece as she burst into tears at his words, and leading her into the little breakfast parlour; "for grandpapa's sake, and your sister and brothers, keep up a brave spirit. Your dear father is in G.o.d's hands, and we must pray and hope."

Clara dried her tears and listened with painful interest to her uncle Henry's description of her poor father's accident, and the illness from which he now suffered.

But her uncle's words had aroused her usual calm self-possession, and she determined to subdue her own sorrow for the sake of those whom she loved so well.

Henry Halford, during the first few days of this sad week, was making himself acquainted with his duties as a curate, and while thus engaged, or busy in the schoolroom, he could banish from his mind the vague suspicions about Arthur which still troubled him when unemployed.

He was mourning over the impossibility of obtaining time to visit the hospital more frequently, when he was one morning surprised soon after breakfast by the appearance of Mr. Drummond and a gentleman whom he introduced as his nephew, George Longford.

On entering the drawing-room, Mr. Drummond came forward with eager sympathy, and taking Henry's offered hand, he exclaimed--

"My dear Henry, I am indeed grieved to hear of these overwhelming troubles which have fallen upon your family in such quick succession, and I and my nephew are come to offer our services if agreeable."

"Pray be seated," said Henry, placing chairs for his visitors.

"Thank you, no; we have only a few moments to stay, and our business is soon told. My nephew George, who is staying with us for a short time, is walking the hospitals. He will be at Guy's every day, and will gladly bring you news--good news, I hope--respecting Mr. Franklyn on his return each evening to my house."

"It is indeed a very kind proposal," said Henry, "I shall be most grateful, for we have my brother-in-law's four children here, and the elder ones are of course very anxious about their father. Unfortunately, it is my first initiation into parish work this week, and as we are within a fortnight of the midsummer vacation my presence is required in the schoolroom almost constantly, and I cannot visit the hospital as often as I could wish."

"I had some idea of all these difficulties," said Mr. Drummond, "but my nephew's reports will relieve you of this anxiety, so make yourself easy on the matter."

"You may depend upon me," said George Longford, as the gentlemen hurried away after shaking hands warmly; "you shall have the latest information every evening. I will call here on my way home."

Henry Halford parted from the gentlemen with cordial and earnest thanks.

It would be a great mental relief to him as well as to Kate Marston to receive daily information respecting Arthur. They already began to feel the responsibility which the care of Arthur's children involved, not so much on account of the additional expense, but from their motherless condition.

"I do hope poor Arthur wont die and leave these poor children fatherless as well as motherless," said Kate Marston on the day Mr. Drummond had called, "but I suppose there will be plenty of money to support them in case of such a sad event."

"No matter if there is not, Kate; my father would never forsake dear f.a.n.n.y's children. Neither would I, even if they were left penniless."

"I know that well," she replied, her eyes filling with tears. "Uncle has been a second father to me for half my life--since I was left an orphan."

"We must not antic.i.p.ate evil, Kate," said her cousin. "I hope all will end well with poor Arthur, although it would grieve you painfully to see how he is changed. But where is the _Times_? I have not read the paragraph Clara spoke of yesterday."

Kate fetched the paper, and pointing to the paragraph, placed it in his hands.