I am like Caracalla--my brother's murderer!" But Melissa laid her arm on his shoulder and besought the poor fellow to be comforted; and her loving words of excuse seemed to have some good effect.

But why was he always so reserved?
Why could not Philip be as frank with her as Alexander was?
She had never been very near to him; and now he was concealing from her something which moved him deeply.
She turned away sadly, for she could not even comfort him.

But then again Philip sighed from the bottom of his heart, and she could contain her self no longer.

More tenderly than she had ever addressed him before, she besought her brother to open his heart to her.

She would gladly help him to endure what oppressed him; and she could understand, for she herself had learned what the joys and sorrows of love were.
She had found the right clew.