THE SICKNESS It was while I was still at Castle Clody that a message came to me one morning saying that some one desired to speak with me; and when I went out into the hall I found it was Nora Brady.

She had a little crimson shawl over her head, and as she lifted her eyes to me her beauty came to me like a new thing.

There was dry snow in the wind, and a few flakes of it showed on her dark curls, which lay ring on ring under the shawl.

Her face was round and soft as a child's, and the innocence of her blue, black-lashed eyes as she lifted them to me was as unsullied as though she were three years old.

She had lost her pretty colour, but the gentleness which made her beauty appealing was, if possible, greater than of old.
"You wanted to speak to me, Nora," I said.
I know I turned red and pale when her eyes met mine; for the moment all social differences and distinctions ceased to be.