stay. That was all she knew or was clear about. She would not even see
the children again, for fear it should weaken her. She dreaded above
everything Mr Frank's return to claim his wife. She could not tell
what remedy there was for a sorrow so tremendous, for her to stay to
witness. The desire of escaping from the coming event was a stronger
motive for her departure, than her soreness about the suspicions
directed against her; although this last had been the final goad
to the course she took. She walked a way almost at headlong speed;
sobbing as she went, as she had not dared to do during the past night
for fear of exciting wonder in those who might hear her. Then she
stopped. An idea came into her mind that she would leave London
altogether, and betake herself to her native town of Liverpool. She
felt in her pocket for her purse as she drew near the Euston Square
station with this intention. She had left it at home. Her poor head
aching, her eyes swollen with crying, she had to stand still, and
think, as well as she could, where next she should bend her steps.
Suddenly the thought flashed into her mind that she would go and find
out poor Mr Frank. She had been hardly kind to him the night before,
though her heart had bled for him ever since. She remembered his
telling her, when she inquired for his address, almost as she had
pushed him out of the door, of some hotel in a street not far distant
from Euston Square. Thither she went: with what intention she scarcely
knew, but to assuage her conscience by telling him how much she
pitied him. In her present state she felt herself unfit to counsel,
or restrain, or assist, or do aught else but sympathize and weep. The
people of the inn said such a person had been there; had arrived only
the day before; had gone out soon after arrival, leaving his luggage
in their care; but had never come back. Norah asked for leave to sit
down, and await the gentleman's return. The landlady--pretty secure in
the deposit of luggage against any probable injury--showed her into