Having pretty good reason, by this time, to reciprocate it, he had no great difficulty in arriving at this conclusion, and tried to persuade himself that the feeling extended no farther than between them.
As he was absorbed in these meditations, he all at once encountered the upturned face of Smike, who was on his knees before the stove, picking a few stray cinders from the hearth and planting them on the fire.

He had paused to steal a look at Nicholas, and when he saw that he was observed, shrunk back, as if expecting a blow.
'You need not fear me,' said Nicholas kindly.

'Are you cold ?' 'N-n-o.' 'You are shivering.' 'I am not cold,' replied Smike quickly.

'I am used to it.' There was such an obvious fear of giving offence in his manner, and he was such a timid, broken-spirited creature, that Nicholas could not help exclaiming, 'Poor fellow!' If he had struck the drudge, he would have slunk away without a word.
But, now, he burst into tears.
'Oh dear, oh dear!' he cried, covering his face with his cracked and horny hands.

'My heart will break.