He refused to Salome none of those attentions which are required by common politeness; what she missed were those which spring out of real affection. His behaviour to her in public was unchanged, and he carried this manner into his private interviews with her. Such interviews were now brief and business-like. He no longer spoke to her about what was past, he never referred to her father. He never allowed her to entertain the smallest hope that his behaviour would change.
Philip rarely spoke to a servant, never except on business; and he was surprised one day when the nurse ventured to intrude on his privacy and ask leave to say something to him.
Philip gave the required permission ungraciously.
Then the woman said:
'Please, sir, the missus be that onconsiderate about hersen that she'd never think o' telling nobody about nowt that was wrong with her. And so, I dare say, you don't know, sir, that it is not all well wi' her. Shoo has sudden faintive's, and they come on ow'er often. Shoo makes light o't, but don't better of it. I sed to her, shoo ought to tell you, but shoo wouldn't. And, please sir, shoo's a good missus, and too precious to be let slip through the fingers for not looking after what's amiss i' time. So—sir—I've made bould to say a word aboot it.'
Philip was surprised, even shocked.
'I will see to it,' he said; and then, 'That will do.'
He took occasion to speak with Salome about her health, and now his eyes were opened to see how delicate she had become. She admitted her fainting-fits, but made light of them.
'I have been overtaxed, that is all, Philip. I shall soon be quite myself again.'
'You have had a good deal of anxiety, no doubt, and that may account for it. Still—it would be a satisfaction to have an opinion. Do you care for Mr. Knight?'