“I would not refuse to try to help any one in the world, who was in danger--even a person I was not fond of,” she said. “And you know we have been friends all our lives, Hector.” “But if I were to ask a great gift of you,” he persisted, “a great gift, of which I was not worthy, but which was the only thing that could save me from ruin?” “You must ask me first,” she said, and then, though it was done very gently, she did take her hand away. CHAPTER XV. WE WON’T GO YET. Having coolly laid her plans for leaving the two to enjoy themselves, Lisbeth retired upon her laurels, with the intention of finding amusements of her own. She had entertained herself before, easily enough, why not again? Naturally, as they had fallen in love with each other, they would not want her; even Georgie would not want her. And it was quite natural that they should have fallen in love. They were the sort of people to do it. And Georgie would make a charming wife, and, if her husband proved a tyrant, would still go down upon her knees and adore him, and thank Heaven for her prince’s affection, and his perfections, to the end of her innocent days. As for herself, it was no business of hers, when she had done her duty toward her friend. The best thing she could do, would be to leave them alone, and she left them alone, and gave them every opportunity to be lover-like, if they had chosen. But one day, Miss Clarissa, looking up from her sewing, started, quite nervously, at the sudden impression made upon her of something new in her dear Lisbeth’s appearance. “My dear Lisbeth!” she exclaimed, “how pale and ill you look!” “I am always pale,” said Lisbeth. “But, my love,” protested Miss Clarissa, “you are pale, to-day, in a different way. You must be suffering. Dear! dear! How careless in us not to have remarked it before! I almost believe--nay, indeed, I am sure--that you look thin, actually thin!” “I am always thin,” said Lisbeth. But Miss Clarissa was not to be consoled by any such coolness of manner. When she looked again more closely, she was quite sure that she was right, that her dear Lisbeth showed unmistakable signs of being in a dreadful state of health. She fell into a positive condition of tremor and remorse. She had been neglected; they had been heartlessly careless, not to see before that she was not strong. It must be attended to at once. And really, if Lisbeth had not been very decided, it is not at all unlikely that she would have been put to bed, and dosed, and wept over by all three spinsters at once. “I hope it is not that Pen’yllan does not agree with you,” faltered Miss Hetty. “We always thought the air very fresh and bracing, but you certainly do not look like yourself, Lisbeth.” And the truth was that she did not look like herself. Much as she might protest against the assertion, she was thinner and paler than usual.