ks
through the dun woods were damp; the atmosphere was heavy, the sky
overcast; and yet it seemed that in Shirley's heart lived all the light
and azure of Italy, as all its fervour laughed in her gray English eye.

Some directions necessary to be given to her foreman, John, delayed her
behind her cousins as they neared Fieldhead on their return. Perhaps an
interval of twenty minutes elapsed between her separation from them and
her re-entrance into the house. In the meantime she had spoken to John,
and then she had lingered in the lane at the gate. A summons to
luncheon called her in. She excused herself from the meal, and went
upstairs.

"Is not Shirley coming to luncheon?" asked Isabella. "She said she was
hungry."

An hour after, as she did not quit her chamber, one of her cousins went
to seek her there. She was found sitting at the foot of the bed, her
head resting on her hand; she looked quite pale, very thoughtful, almost
sad.

"You are not ill?" was the question put.

"A little sick," replied Miss Keeldar.

Certainly she was not a little changed from what she had been two hours
before.

This change, accounted for only by those three words, explained no
otherwise; this change--whencesoever springing, effected in a brief ten
minutes--passed like no light summer cloud. She talked when she joined
her friends at dinner, talked as usual. She remained with them during
the evening. When again questioned respecting her health, she declared
herself perfectly recovered. It had been a mere passing faintness, a
momentary sensation, not worth a thought; yet it was felt there was a
difference in Shirley.

The next day--the day, the week, the fortnight after--this new and
peculiar shadow lingered on the countenance, in the manner of Miss
Keeldar. A strange quietude settled over her look, her movements, her
very voice. The alteration was not so marked as to court or permit
frequent questioning, yet it _was_ there, and it would not pass away. It
hung over her like a cloud which no breeze could stir or disperse. Soon
it became evident that to notice this change was to annoy her. First she
shrank from remark; and, if persisted in, she, with her own peculiar
_hauteur_, repelled it. "Was she ill?" The reply came with decision.

"I _am not_."

"Did anything weigh on her mind? Had anything happened to affect her
spirits?"

She scornfully ridiculed the idea. "What did they mean by spirits? She
had no spirits, black or whit