Indeed he never spoke in anger.
When on sudden provocation he carried his head higher and flushed a little, they supposed he was angry; but if he was, this was all he showed of the old Adam, and he held his peace.
So now the doctor looked down upon the table-cloth, for Devereux's breakfast china and silver were still upon the table, and he marshalled some crumbs he found there, sadly, with his finger, in a row first, and then in a circle, and then, goodness knows how; and he sighed profoundly over his work.
Devereux was in his mood.

He was proud--he had no notion of apologising.
But looking another way, and with his head rather high, he hoped Miss Lilias was better.
Well, well, the spring was coming; and Parson Walsingham knew the spring restored little Lily.

'She's like a bird--she's like a flower, and the winter is nearly past,' (and the beautiful words of the 'Song of Songs,' which little Lily so loved to read, mingled like a reverie in his discourse, and he said), 'the flowers will soon appear in the earth, the time of the singing birds will come, and the voice of the turtle be heard in our land.' 'Sir,' said Dick Devereux, in a voice that sounded strangely, 'I have a request; may I make it ?--a favour to beg.

'Tisn't, all things remembered, very much.

If I write a letter, and place it open in your hand--a letter, Sir--to Miss Lily--will you read it to her, or else let her read it?
Or even a message--a spoken message--will you give it ?' 'Captain Devereux,' said the doctor, in a reserved but very sad sort of way, 'I must tell you that my dear child is by no means well.