ever have thought that we two"--Flemming stopped short and looked
earnestly into his comrade's face. "Why, Ned, I didn't notice how thin
and pale you are. Are you ill?"

The color which had mantled Lynde's cheeks in the first surprise and
pleasure of meeting his friend had passed away, leaving, indeed, a
somewhat haggard expression on the young man's countenance.

"Ill? Not that I know."

"Is anything wrong?"

"There is nothing wrong," replied Lynde, with some constraint. "That is
to say, nothing very wrong. For a month or six weeks I have been
occupied with a matter that has rather unsettled me--more, perhaps, than
I ought to have allowed."

"What is that?"

"It doesn't signify. Don't let's speak of it."

"But it does signify. You are keeping something serious from me. Out
with it."

"Well, the truth is," said Lynde after a moment's hesitation, "it IS
something serious and nothing very positive: that's the perplexing part
of it."

"You are not making it clear to me."