Henry, after the revelation which Sylvia had made to him, became more puzzled than ever.

He had thought that her secret anxiety would be alleviated by the confidence she had made him, but it did not seem to be.

On the contrary, she went about with a more troubled air than before.

Even Horace and Rose, in the midst of their love-dream, noticed it.
One day Henry, coming suddenly into the sitting-room, found Rose on her knees beside Sylvia, weeping bitterly.

Sylvia was looking over the girl's head with a terrible, set expression, as if she were looking at her own indomitable will.