And then I recalled what I had observed, but in my haste forgotten--Lord Castlewood was greatly changed even in the short time since I had left his house for Shoxford.

Pale he had always been, and his features (calm as they were, and finely cut) seemed almost bleached by in-door life and continual endurance.

But now they showed worse sign than this--a delicate transparence of faint color, and a waxen surface, such as I had seen at a time I can not bear to think of.

Also he had tottered forward, while he tried for steadfast footing, quite as if his worried members were almost worn out at last.
Mrs.Price took me up quite sharply--at least for one of her well-trained style--when I ventured to ask if she had noticed this, which made me feel uneasy.

"Oh dear, no!" she said, looking up from the lace-frilled pockets of her silk apron, which appeared to my mind perhaps a little too smart, and almost of a vulgar tincture; and I think that she saw in my eyes that much, and was vexed with herself for not changing it--"oh dear, no, Miss Castlewood! We who know and watch him should detect any difference of that nature at the moment of its occurrence.