Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do 't? Prithee, why so mute?" SUCKLING. "The wrist is better," was Dr. Bernard's next report of Amy; "but Miss Neville is ill and feverish, and must be kept perfectly quiet." So there were no more lessons for some days; while Julia installed herself by Amy's bedside as head nurse, aided by Mary; and sometimes Mrs. Hopkins came, bringing a jelly or some nicety she had prepared with her own hands to please the invalid; Amy, therefore, was not dull, with so many friends to cheer and take care of her. During these days Charles was restless and unhappy; was it not partly his fault she was ill? How he accused himself of being the author of all the mischief that had accrued from the simple fact of having allowed her to have her own way, when he might have so easily prevented it; nor was he in any way consoled when Julia said to him, "Well, you must confess, Miss Neville has nerve now, and is not afraid of her own shadow; for I have never heard her once complain of pain; she bears it like a martyr." How he envied Dr. Bernard his privilege of seeing and speaking to Amy, and would have waylaid him at every visit if he had only dared. To ask news of his patient would betray too evident an interest in her welfare; so although Charles saw him come and go every day, yet he was obliged to wait patiently, sometimes for hours, until he could catch sight of Anne. Anne, who kept out of his way as much as she could, who had determined on having nothing to do in the matter, now found herself dragged into his confidence, whether she would or no. How she regretted the curiosity that had induced her to join him that day in the corridor; if it had not been for that she would had been free now, and not troubled with the knowledge of the fact that he had certainly fallen in love irretrievably with his sister-in-law's governess; but then he looked so miserable and unhappy, Anne could not help pitying him, she was too kind-hearted not to do that. So every day she gave him news of Amy, and consoled herself with thinking things had gone too far for any interference of hers to do any good; but, at the same time, she would be the bearer of no kind messages, no books, no flowers; and Charles often flew into a rage, and they parted bad friends in consequence, only to find him awaiting her the next day as anxiously as before.