Maud sat unmoving and silent.
"I thought, also," Paul went on, "that she appeared a little strange
last evening, when the people were here.--You weren't in the
drawing-room?"
Maud shook her head again.
"Do you--do you think," he asked, "she is having too much
excitement? I know she needs a life of constant variety; it is
essential to her. I'm sure you understand that, Maud? You--you
don't misjudge her?"
"No, no; it is necessary to her," said the girl mechanically.
"But," her father pursued, with still lower voice, "there is always
the danger lest she should over-exert herself. Last night I--I
thought I noticed--but it was scarcely worth speaking of; I am so
easily alarmed, you know."
Maud tried to say something, but in vain.
"You--you won't desert her--quite--Maud?" said her father in a
tone of pleading. "I am obliged to be so muck away--God knows I
can't help it. And then I--I wonder whether you have noticed? I
seem to have little influence with her."
He stopped, but the next moment forced himself to utter what was in
his mind.
"Can't you help me a little more, Maud? Couldn't you induce her to
live a little more--more restfully at times?"
She rose, pushing the chair back behind her.
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