"'Father,' said she, 'I am obliged to you for the compassion you express for me; but do not wish ill to one who perhaps has not committed any wrong. My malady is not fascination, but, I think, of another kind.'--'Why do you conceal it then, my daughter, and not tell it freely, that you may meet with some relief? Consider me as a father to you, in age at least, and more in good-will. Am not I well known to, and the intimate friend of, Charicles? Tell me the cause of your disorder: put confidence in me; I swear I will not betray it. Speak freely, and do not increase your sufferings by concealing them: there is no disease, which when easily known, is not easily cured; but that which is become inveterate by time is almost incurable--silence nourishes anguish; what is disclosed admits of consolation and relief.'--After a pause, in which her countenance betrayed the various agitations of her mind, she said, 'Suffer me to continue silent to-day, I will be more explicit hereafter; if the art of divination, in which you are skilled, has not already discovered to you all I have to tell you.' "Upon this I arose and took my leave, hinting to the maiden the necessity of overcoming her modesty and reserve. Charicles met me. 'What have you to tell me?' said he. 'All good news,' I replied. 'To-morrow your daughter shall be cured of her complaint, and something else shall happen which you greatly desire; in the meantime, however, it may not be amiss to send for a physician:' and having said this, I retired, that he might ask me no more questions.