* * * * *
Flattered and fawned upon as Shirley was just now, it appeared she was not absolutely spoiled--that her better nature did not quite leave her. Universal report had indeed ceased to couple her name with that of Moore, and this silence seemed sanctioned by her own apparent oblivion of the absentee; but that she had not _quite_ forgotten him--that she still regarded him, if not with love, yet with interest--seemed proved by the increased attention which at this juncture of affairs a sudden attack of illness induced her to show that tutor-brother of Robert's, to whom she habitually bore herself with strange alternations of cool reserve and docile respect--now sweeping past him in all the dignity of the moneyed heiress and prospective Lady Nunnely, and anon accosting him as abashed school-girls are wont to accost their stern professors; bridling her neck of ivory and curling her lip of carmine, if he encountered her glance, one minute, and the next submitting to the grave rebuke of his eye with as much contrition as if he had the power to inflict penalties in case of contumacy.
Louis Moore had perhaps caught the fever, which for a few days laid him low, in one of the poor cottages of the district, which he, his lame pupil, and Mr. Hall were in the habit of visiting together. At any rate he sickened, and after opposing to the malady a taciturn resistance for a day or two, was obliged to keep his chamber.
He lay tossing on his thorny bed one evening, Henry, who would not quit him, watching faithfully beside him, when a tap--too light to be that of Mrs. Gill or the housemaid--summoned young Sympson to the door.
"How is Mr. Moore to-night?" asked a low voice from the dark gallery.
"Come in and see him yourself."
"Is he asleep?"

Rumour had indeed ceased to couple Shirley's name with that of Moore; but it appeared that she had not forgotten him. That seemed proved by the attention which a sudden attack of illness led her to show Robert's tutor-brother, to whom she habitually behaved with strange alternations of cool reserve and docile respect - now sweeping past him in all the dignity of the moneyed heiress, and then accosting him as abashed school-girls accost their stern professors.
Louis Moore had perhaps caught the fever in one of the poor cottages of the district, which he and Mr. Hall had visited together. At any rate he sickened, and was obliged to keep to his chamber.
He lay tossing on his bed one evening, with Henry by him, when there was a light tap on the door.
"How is Mr. Moore tonight?" asked a low voice.
"Come in and see him yourself," said Henry.
"Is he asleep?"
