第77部分(第2/7 页)

；　his　was　a　very　cool　and　collected　insanity：　I　had　never　seen　that　handsome…featured　face　of　his　look　more　like　chiselled　marble　than　it　did　just　now；　as　he　put　aside　his　snow…wet　hair　from　his　forehead　and　let　the　firelight　shine　free　on　his　pale　brow　and　cheek　as　pale；　where　it　grieved　me　to　discover　the　hollow　trace　of　care　or　sorrow　now　so　plainly　graved。　I　waited；　expecting　he　would　say　something　I　could　at　least　prehend；　but　his　hand　was　now　at　his　chin；　his　finger　on　his　lip：　he　was　thinking。　It　struck　me　that　his　hand　looked　wasted　like　his　face。　A　perhaps　uncalled…for　gush　of　pity　came　over　my　heart：　I　was　moved　to　say—

“I　wish　Diana　or　Mary　would　e　and　live　with　you：　it　is　too　bad　that　you　should　be　quite　alone；　and　you　are　recklessly　rash　about　your　own　health。”

“Not　at　all；”　said　he：　“I　care　for　myself　when　necessary。　I　am　well　now。　What　do　you　see　amiss　in　me？”

This　was　said　with　a　careless；　abstracted　indifference；　which　showed　that　my　solicitude　was；　at　least　in　his　opinion；　wholly　superfluous。　I　was　silenced。

He　still　slowly　moved　his　finger　over　his　upper　lip；　and　still　his　eye　dwelt　dreamily　on　the　glowing　grate；　thinking　it　urgent　to　say　something；　I　asked　him　presently　if　he　felt　any　cold　draught　from　the　door；　which　was　behind　him。

“No；　no！”　he　responded　shortly　and　somewhat　testily。

“Well；”　I　reflected；　“if　you　won’t　talk；　you　may　be　still；　I’ll　let　you　alone　now；　and　return　to　my　book。”

So　I　snuffed　the　candle　and　resumed　the　perusal　of　“Marmion。”　He　soon　stirred；　my　eye　was　instantly　drawn　to　his　movements；　he　only　took　out　a　morocco　pocket…book；　thence　produced　a　letter；　which　he　read　in　silence；　folded　it；　put　it　back；　relapsed　into　meditation。　It　was　vain　to　try　to　read　with　such　an　inscrutable