"His eyes were always weak, and easily tired and dazzled, from the very first when I knew him. They don't look as if there was anything amiss with them, and so people don't suspect it."
"I think they do look very much amiss," said Edmund. "Do not you observe an indistinctness about the pupil, between it and the iris? Can you tell whether that was always the case?"
"I don't know, I see what you mean. I should say it had begun of late.
Do you think it so bad a sign?" she asked anxiously.
"I am not sure; I only know if he belonged to me, I should not like it at all."
Marian pondered and feared, and considered if it would be possible to stir up Mrs. Lyddell; she herself was much startled, and rather indignant; but she doubted greatly whether poor Lionel was of sufficient importance in the family for any one to be very anxious on his account. In the meantime, she was extremely desirous of hearing what account Edmund had received from the tutor respecting her brother, but she had no opportunity till late in the evening, when he came and sat by her on the sofa, saying, "Now, Marian, I will answer your anxious eyes, though I am afraid I have nothing very satisfactory to tell you. I don't know that there is any positive harm—it is only the old story of a clever boy with too much money, and too much left to himself. Idleness and thoughtlessness."
"And what shall you do?"
"I don't know—I must think."
Whereupon they both sat silent.
"I shall see you again in the summer," said he.
"O yes—perhaps you will come in Gerald's holidays."