This was very distressing, but still Claude scarcely thought it accounted for the change that had taken place in Lilias. Her cheek was pale, her eye heavy, her voice had lost its merry tone; Claude knew that she had had much to grieve her, but he was as yet far from suspecting how she was overworked and harassed. He spoke of Eleanor’s return, and she did not brighten; she smiled sadly at his attempts to cheer her, and he became more and more anxious about her. He was not long in discovering what was the matter. The second day after his return Robert told them at the churchyard gate that Tom Naylor was beginning to mend, and this seemed to be a great comfort to Lily, who walked home with a blither step than usual. Claude betook himself to the study, and saw no more of his sisters till two o’clock, when Lily appeared, with the languid, dejected look which she had lately worn, and seemed to find it quite an effort to keep the tears out of her eyes. Ada and Phyllis were in very high spirits, because they were going to Raynham with Emily and Jane, and at every speech of Ada’s Lily looked more grieved. After the Raynham party were gone Claude began to look for Lily. He found her in her room, an evening dress spread on the bed, a roll of ribbon in one hand, and with the other supporting her forehead, while tears were slowly rolling down her cheeks. ‘Lily, my dear, what is the matter?’ ‘Oh! nothing, nothing, Claude,’ said she, quickly. ‘Nothing! no, that is not true. Tell me, Lily. You have been disconsolate ever since I came home, and I will not let it go on so. No answer? Then am I to suppose that these new pearlins are the cause of her sorrow? Come, Lily, be like yourself, and speak. More tears! Here, drink this water, be yourself again, or I shall be angry and vexed. Now then, that is right: make an effort, and tell me.’ ‘There is nothing to tell,’ said Lily; ‘only you are very kind—I do not know what is the matter with me—only I have been very foolish of late—and everything makes me cry.’ ‘My poor child, I knew you had not been well. They do not know how to take care of you, Lily, and I shall take you in hand. I am going to order the horses, and we will have a gallop over the Downs, and put a little colour into your cheeks.’ ‘No, no, thank you, Claude, I cannot come, indeed I cannot, I have this work, which must be done to-day.’ ‘At work at your finery instead of coming out! You must be altered, indeed, Lily.’ ‘It is not for myself,’ said Lily, ‘but I promised Emily she should have it ready to wear to-morrow.’ ‘Emily, oh? So she is making a slave of you?’ ‘No, no, it was a voluntary promise. She does not care about it, only she would be disappointed, and I have promised.’ ‘I hate promises!’ said Claude. ‘Well, what must be, must be, so I will resign myself to this promise of yours, only do not make such another. Well, but that was not all; you were not crying about that fine green thing, were you?’