I looked at him, startled by his last words. They were the first he had uttered which denoted that he suspected my motive in wooing and encouraging these conversations. The expression on his face was gentle and sad, and I thought it best to make no comment on his remark. The next day he gave me an address in Cornwall at which Mrs. Fortress had told him she was certain to be found during her lifetime. He gave me also a short note to her, in which he stated that I was his most intimate friend and adviser, and that he would be glad if she would communicate to me any information respecting his parents it was in her power to impart--intimating, at the same time, that I was prepared to pay handsomely for it. At Carew's request, I read this note in his presence, and at its conclusion he empowered me to pay for the information if I could not otherwise obtain it, naming as a limit a sum which I considered extravagantly liberal. I had already made preparations for a temporary absence from home, and before the end of the week I was in Cornwall, and face to face with Mrs. Fortress. XV. A fine, stately, stalwart old woman, between sixty and seventy years of age, with gray hair, bright eyes, and an air of masculine vigour about her which could not fail to impress an observer. But what most strongly impressed me was the quality of power which distinguished her--the power of a firm will, which, in a lofty grade of life, would have made her a leader. I introduced myself to her, and informed her that I had obtained her address from Gabriel Carew, and had journeyed to Cornwall for the express purpose of seeing her. She evinced no surprise, and inquired how could she be sure that I came from Mr. Carew. "I have a letter from him," I said; and I gave it to her. She read it quietly, and put it into her pocket. "Is Mr. Carew well?" she asked. "He is well," I replied. "I have heard nothing of him since I left him in Rosemullion," she said. "He told me then, it was his intention to quit it for ever, and never again to set foot in it. I said that there was no saying what might happen in the course of life. He lives now in Rosemullion?" "Yes." "Then he has not carried out his intention?" There was no triumph in her voice, indicating that she had been right and he wrong. It was a simple statement of fact simply made. "We often commit ourselves unguardedly," I observed. She nodded assent. "As you have heard nothing of Mr. Carew, you are not aware that he is married?" She gazed at me thoughtfully, and I fancy I detected a stirring of interest within her at this intelligence. "Married!" she echoed calmly. "Lately?" "No. More than twenty years ago. I do not know the exact year." "Is his wife living?" she asked. "Yes. She is with Mr. Carew at Rosemullion. Would you like to see her portrait?" "Yes," she replied.