stood Sidney’s mind at this moment as she could have given an analytic account of her own sensations. For all that, the two were in profound sympathy; how different soever the ways in which they were affected, the result, as they stood side by side, was identical in the hearts of both.
Sidney began to speak of Michael Snowdon, keeping his voice low, as if in fear of breaking those subtle harmonies wherewith the night descended.
“We must be careful not to over-tire him. He looked very pale when he went upstairs. I’ve thought lately that he must suffer more than he tells us.”
“Yes, I’m afraid he often does,” Jane assented, as if relieved to speak of it. “Yet he always says it’s nothing to trouble about, nothing but what is natural at his age. He’s altered a great deal since father came,” she added, regarding him diffidently.
“I hope it isn’t because he thinks your father may be wanting to take you away?”
“Oh, it can’t be that! Oh, he knows I
