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Updated: September 9, 2025
"Yes, you were right; it was I who was to have been Marian Nowell's husband, whose every hope of the future was bound up in her. But all that is past; whatever bitterness I felt against her at first and I do not think I was ever very bitter has passed away. I am nothing now but her friend, her steadfast and constant friend." "Thank heaven that she has such a friend," Ellen said earnestly.
Medler had been a tacit accomplice in Percival Nowell's fraud; or, at any rate, that he had enabled the pretended Mrs. Holbrook to obtain a large sum of ready money with greater ease than she could have done had he, as executor, been scrupulously careful to obtain her identification from some more trustworthy person than he knew Percival Nowell to be.
Anything is better than the idea of losing sight of you for ever of leaving this room to-day never to look upon your face again." He wrote Jacob Nowell's address upon one of his own cards, and gave it to Marian; and then prepared to take his departure. He had an idea that the bailiff's daughter would conduct him to the gate, and that he would be able to make some inquiries about Mr.
"Of course," answered the shopman, looking defiantly at the questioner, who was leaning across the counter with folded arms, staring at Luke Tulliver with an ironical grin upon his countenance. "Then you are a very remarkable man. I should have thought such a chance as a death as unexpected as my as old Mr. Nowell's would have made the fortune of a confidential clerk like you."
Yes, it was just as he remembered it twenty years before the same dingy old silver, the same little heap of gold, the same tray of tarnished jewelry glimmered in the faint light of a solitary gas-burner behind the murky glass. On the door-plate there was still Jacob Nowell's name. Yet all this might mean nothing.
"My dear Jack, I began to think I should never see you again. What have you been doing all this time, and where have you been?" "I have been hard at work, as usual, for the reviews, down Oxford way, at a little place on the river. And how has the world been going with you, Gilbert? I saw your advertisement offering a reward for evidence of Miss Nowell's marriage. Was there any result?"
Solon kept barking away, but did not get within range of his jaws, knowing full well that he could use them to good effect if he chose, and gobble him up in a moment; while I, at Nowell's desire, belaboured his hard scales with a stout stick.
Nowell's advertisement," Gilbert said after a pause. "It was odd that he did not tell you about it that he did not wish you to reply to it." "The advertisement may have escaped him, or he may have looked upon it as a trap to discover our retreat," Marian answered frankly. "I cannot understand the motive for such secrecy." "There is no occasion that you should understand it.
It matters little now; and I may freely own how weak I was in those days. "I could see that she was very ill, and I did not need the ominous hints of the landlady, who had contrived to question Mrs. Nowell's doctor, to inspire me with the dread that she might never recover.
Gilbert would have had no objection to loiter away another half-hour in the bow-window, talking politics with the Captain, or light literature with Miss Nowell, but he knew that his prolonged absence must have already caused some amount of wonder at Lidford House; so he held firmly to his good-night, shook hands with his new friends, holding Marian Nowell's soft slender hand in his for the first time, and wondering at the strange magic of her touch, and then went out into the dreamy atmosphere of the summer night a changed creature.
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