doubt that he sought to weep in solitude over the grave of her he had loved, and only grieved that she was not permitted to share his sorrows. Mary encouraged the supposition, though she could not share it, and engaged Isabella much in making purchases of beautiful work at various nunneries, learning particulars on the subject of festas and miracles, and bestowing on the peasantry useful gifts, which drew forth blessings uttered in the glowing fervour of their hearts and their sweet language with poetic fluency, so that his few days of absence passed with little of repining, and he actually returned at the time he had specified, to the great delight of Isabella, who was never weary of thanking him, until she became alarmed by the change in his countenance, which indicated either positive illness or severe affliction.
"You are ill, dear Glentworth, or you have been, I am certain? "
"I had a little bilious attack at Rome, but it is over now."
"There are good physicians there, of course—did you see one?"
"I saw a physician, certainly, but he did me no good—he half killed me."
As Mr, Glentworth spoke, he left the room, and Mary read in his countenance an expression of agony which he sought to hide by retiring to his dressing-room, where he kept his books and papers, and spent much time in general; but Isabella construed the words
