Up to the moment of her speaking of Dolly he had not known his own name; all other memories had returned to him, save that. His face was very white, but there was a strong expression in it. If the woman were to talk for another twelve hours, she could add nothing more to what she had already said. Dolly’s death he had expected as he had expected a hundred other nameless possibilities, when memory swooped upon him and set him peering over the edge of the chasm that separated the Then from the Now; but not her marriage. Not that. In all the hours he had passed in the open boat at sea, beholding death striking down his companions about him, suffering the exquisite torture of thirst, the yet more exquisite pang of hopelessness, there was no moment of agony in all that time comparable to the agony that now wrenched him. It might be one of those terrible experiences which break the heart or transform the nature, but it gave to or found in Holdsworth a quality of endurance that enabled him to front the extremity with a face of marble. When next he spoke his voice was low, but without a tremor in it. “I am interested in Mrs. Conway and her old grandmother. Tell me what you know about them.” “Surely, sir, you don’t bring news of Mr. Holdsworth--of the fine young man that went to sea and was shipwrecked?” inquired the woman with a face of excitement, and staring hard, as if she were about to receive some astounding news. “No, no!” he answered, almost under his breath; and then he added, “Tell me what you know of the widow.” “I remember Mr. Holdsworth well,” said the woman, her speech answering to her mood. “A handsomer young fellow I never saw. He used often to be at the rectory with his wife, and the love between them was something beautiful. How she ever had the heart to let him leave her I never could guess. But he went and was drowned, and left the young thing without a friend or a shilling in the wide world, God help her; and though I said it was almost stupid her marrying Mr. Conway, remembering what love there was between her and Mr. Holdsworth, yet I have always believed it was for her child’s sake that she married the dentist, for they were in desperate want when he courted her, and must have starved for want of help.” “You are speaking of Holdsworth’s child?”