Yes; she was
very much thinner, and the face above only confirmed the impression
of illness. It was pale, and looked slightly swollen; the eyes were
dilated and surrounded with blue shades; the lips were red, almost
unnaturally so, to the point of soreness, as they get to look in
fever.
"Well, have you come to your conclusion?" she said, as she raised
her eyes suddenly and intercepted mine surveying her.
I coloured slightly, looked away, and then said merely, "Yes, you
don't look well."
She gave a little slighting laugh, as much as to say, "You might
have arrived at that before, one would think!"
"But Lucia," I said, entreatingly, "this is all very serious; do
tell me what is wrong."
"Ah, my health becomes a serious matter," she answered, leaning her
soft head back on my arm that was resting on the top of her chair,
and looking up at me with her brilliant, clever eyes ablaze with
indulgent derision, "if it is likely to stop our marriage when YOU
desire it!"
I winced before the delicate thrust in her words, and hardly knew
whether the pain of them was drowned in the pleasure the confident
touch of her head transfused through my arm.
"That is unnecessarily unkind," I answered, quietly. "Your health or
ill-health would always be a serious matter, but since you hint it--
yes, I admit--if it prevented our marriage, if it came between us
now, Lucia, it would surpass even the importance it has at all other
times.
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