He had only seen the transfiguration of her face, and it had been for a moment as he had never seen it before.
Again his heart sank suddenly, and he uttered a little sound that was more than a sigh and less than a groan.
"There are remedies for almost every kind of pain," said Marietta wisely, as she threaded several beads.
"Give me one for mine," he cried almost bitterly.

"Bid that which is to cease from being, and that to be which is not earthly possible! Turn the world back, and undo truth, and make it all a dream! Then I shall find the remedy and forget that it was needed." "There are magicians who pretend to do such things," she answered softly.
"I would there were!" he sighed.
"But those who come to them for help tell all, else the magician has no power.

Would you call a physician, if you were ill, and tell him that the pain you felt was in your head, if it was really--in your heart ?" She had paused an instant before speaking the last words, and they came with a little effort.
"How could the physician cure you, if you would not tell him the truth ?" she asked, as he said nothing.

"How can the wizard work miracles for you, unless he knows what miracle you ask?
How can your best friend help you if--if she does not know what help you need ?" Still he was silent, leaning against the tree, with bent head.

The pain was growing worse, and harder to bear.