It was a trick of hers, in such moods, to ignore any attempt to attract her notice; and Amherst was prepared for her remaining motionless as he paused on the threshold and then advanced toward the middle of the room. There had been a time when he would have been exasperated by her pretense of not seeing him, but a deep weariness of spirit now dulled him to these surface pricks.
“I was afraid you were not well when I saw the light burning,” he began.
“Thank you—I am quite well,” she answered in a colourless voice, without turning her head.
“Shall I put it out, then? You can’t sleep with such a glare in your eyes.”
“I should not sleep at any rate; and I hate to lie awake in the dark.”
"Why shouldn’t you sleep?” He moved nearer, looking down compassionately on her perturbed face and struggling lips.
She lay silent a moment; then she faltered out: “B—because I’m so unhappy!”
The pretense of indifierence was swept away by a gush of childish sobs as she flung over on her side and buried her face in the embroidered pillows.
Amherst, bending down, laid a quieting hand on her shoulder. Bessy"
She sobbed on.
[ 197 ]
