"This distress is not occasioned by physical pain, you say, Harry? You have a grief; tell it me."
"Sir, I have such a grief as I never had before. I wish it could be relieved in some way; I can hardly bear it."
"Who knows but, if we talk it over, we may relieve it? What is the cause? Whom does it concern?"
"The cause, sir, is Shirley; it concerns Shirley."
"Does it? You think her changed?"
"All who know her think her changed—you too, Mr. Moore."
"Not seriously—no. I see no alteration but such as a favourable turn might repair in a few weeks; besides, her own word must go for something: she says she is well."
"There it is, sir. As long as she maintained she was well, I believed her. When I was sad out of her sight, I soon recovered spirits in her presence. Now——"
"Well, Harry, now. Has she said anything to you? You and she were together in the garden two hours this morning. I saw her talking, and you listening. Now, my dear Harry, if Miss Keeldar has said she is ill, and enjoined you to keep her secret, do not obey her. For her life's sake, avow everything. Speak, my boy."
"She say she is ill! I believe, sir, if she were dying, she would smile, and aver, 'Nothing ails me.'"