you," said Philip, raising his shoulders and stooping his head
over the table, "granny, that there is nothing the matter with me."

And he took no part in the conversation as they went on talking, of any
subjects but those that were most near their hearts. They had, indeed,
no thoughts at all to spare but those that were occupied with the
situation, and with this new feature in it, Pippo's worn and troubled
looks, yet had to talk of something, of nothing, while the meal went on,
which was no meal at all for any of them. When it was over at last Pippo
rose abruptly from the table.

"Are you going out?" Elinor said, alarmed, rising too. "Have you any
engagement with the Marshalls for to-day?"

"I don't know," Philip said; "Mr. Marshall was ill yesterday. I didn't
see them. I'm not going out. I am going to my room."

"You've got a headache, Pippo!"

"Nothing of the kind! I tell you there is nothing the matter with me.
I'm only going to my room."

Elinor put her hands on his arm. "Pippo, I have something to say to you
before you go out. Will you promise to let me know before you go out? I
don't want to keep you back from anything, but I have something that I
must say."

He did not ask with his usual interest what it was. He showed no
curiosity; on the contrary, he drew his arm out of her hold almost
rudely. "Of course," he said, "I will come in here before I go out. I
have no intention of going out now."

And thus he left them, and went with a heavy step, oh, how different
from Pippo's flying foot: so that they could count every step,
up-stairs.

"What is the matter, what is the matter, Elinor?"

"I know nothing," she said; "nothing! He was like himself yesterday
morning, full of life. Unless he is ill, I cannot understand it. But,
mother, I have to tell him--everything to-day."

"God grant it may not be too late, Elinor!" Mrs. Dennistoun said.

"Too late? How can it be too late? Yes; perhaps you are right, John and
you. He ought to have known from the beginning; he ought to have been
told when he was a child. I acknowledge that I was wrong; but it is no
use," she said, wiping away some fiery tears, "to go back upon that
now."

"John could not have told him anything?" Mrs. Dennistoun said,
doubtfully.

"John! my best friend, who has always stood by me. Oh, never, never. How
little you know him, mother! He has been imploring me every day, almost
upon his knees, to tell Pippo everything; and I promised to do