"I feel as if I could not exist without you now, Gilbert," said the girl, moving on again.
"Nor I without you, darling," answered Gilbert, tenderly.
Then in silence they went on their way.
When they were out of hearing, Francis Eversleigh heaved a great sigh, and followed them with tottering steps. The siren voice of the river had died out from his ears; it called him no longer.
"I must struggle on to the end," he said, and returned to his house.
About noon next day, Bennet, who had pressing reasons for getting at once the ten thousand pounds he had asked for, looked in at 176, New Square, Lincoln's Inn, and requested to see Francis Eversleigh.
"How are you, Harry?" inquired Eversleigh, when he saw him.
Bennet had not seen the other for a considerable time, and he was immensely struck by the altered appearance of the solicitor, so he answered that he was very well, but regretted to notice that Mr. Eversleigh appeared to be in poor health.
"Well," said Eversleigh; "you have no doubt heard I've had much of a painful nature—Mr. Silwood's death and Mr. Thornton's—to try me recently. I have felt these blows very keenly."
"Of course you would," responded Bennet. "About this money, Mr. Eversleigh, I am sorry to trouble you, but I must have it at once."