After some moments, Alice raised her head from out her hands.
'I can listen to you now,' she said very quietly. 'Will you tell me all about it? I suppose it was because I recognised you as a clergyman that gave me the intuitive knowledge that something dreadful had happened, and that you had come to tell me all. I am ready to hear it now.'
Martin Gurwood was horribly discomposed at this. He felt he could give her no information; for it would be impossible to tell her that the man whom she supposed to be her husband had died on the day that he left Hendon, as she would naturally inquire why the news of his death had so long been kept from her, and Martin owned to himself that he was not good at invention. He did not know what to say, and he therefore remained silent, his hand fluttering nervously round his mouth.
'My dear madam,' commenced Martin, with much hesitation, 'beyond the awful fact, there is indeed nothing to tell.'
She looked disappointed for an instant; then, striving to control the working of her lips, she said:
'Did he ask for me? Did he speak of me before--before-- Ah, my darling John! My dear, good old John, kindest, best, and dearest. I cannot bear it. What shall I do!'
She broke down utterly, and again buried her face, down which the tears were streaming, in her hands.
Knowing the impossibility of affording her any relief, Martin Gurwood sat helplessly by. He could only wait until the outburst of grief should moderate; he knew that it was of no use attempting to check it; so he waited.
Presently she raised her head.
'I thought I had more command over myself,' she said. 'I did not know I was so weak. But when there is any occasion for me to act, I shall be found strong enough. Tell me, sir, if you please, where is he? When will they bring him home?'