"
He raised his head from its musing position at the
first sounds of her voice, and smiled faintly, and
with an expression of anguish, as she proceeded;
but when she had ended, and taken her seat near
him, still keeping her eyes on his varying
countenance, he took her hand into his own before
he replied. A good deal surprised at his manner,
and at this act, which exceeded the usual
familiarity of even their affectionate intercourse,
the colour, of which Miss Henley had been so
playfully boasting, changed once or twice with rapid
transitions.
"Seem I so well, dear Charlotte?" he at length said
in a low, tremulous, and hollow voice, "seem I so
well? I believe you are right, and that I shall
shortly be better--much better."
"What mean you, George? feel you any worse? have
I disturbed you with my presence and my
thoughtless gaiety?"
The young man smiled again, but the expression of
his face was no longer mingled with a look of
anguish; it was a kind benevolent gleam of
gratitude and affection which crossed his ghastly
features, like a ray of sunshine enlivening the
gloom of a day in winter.
"You disturb me, Charlotte!" he answered, his very
voice trembling as if in sympathy with his frame: "I
do believe but for you I should have been long
since in my grave."
"No, no, George, this is too melancholy a theme for
us both just now; let us talk of your returning
health.
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