The next day--the day, the week, the fortnight after--this new and peculiar shadow lingered on the countenance, in the manner of Miss Keeldar. A strange quietude settled over her look, her movements, her very voice. The alteration was not so marked as to court or permit frequent questioning, yet it _was_ there, and it would not pass away. It hung over her like a cloud which no breeze could stir or disperse. Soon it became evident that to notice this change was to annoy her. First she shrank from remark; and, if persisted in, she, with her own peculiar _hauteur_, repelled it. "Was she ill?" The reply came with decision.
"I _am not_."

The next day - the day, the week, the fortnight after - this new peculiar shadow lingered on her face. A strange quietude settled over her look and voice. The alteration was not marked; yet it was there, and it would not pass away. It hung over her like a cloud - but to mention it annoyed her. She declared with hauteur that she was not ill.
