When she was next in company with Fitz-Ullin, which was, of necessity, that evening, she carefully avoided meeting his eyes, keeping her own always on the ground. She never addressed him; when he addressed her, she answered, without looking up, and by monosyllables pronounced in a voice scarcely audible, and immediately spoke to some one else. Fitz-Ullin seemed conscious that he had committed some error; for more than once in the course of the evening, he found an opportunity when none were near, to entreat her pardon in a low, hurried tone. He received neither word nor look in reply.
CHAPTER XLIV.
… “How thy cheek
Doth vary! But now, with feverish glow
It burnt, kindling as thou spakest, and now
White, and cold, it glistens in thy damp tears,
Like the pale lily in the morning dew.
Oh! shake not thus my soul, Comala!”