Looking about her in the anguish of
conflicting thoughts, her eyes fell upon the pages she had written.
These now came before her as a proof of contagion which had seized
upon her own nature; she tore the letter hastily into fragments,
and, striking fire with a match, consumed them in the grate. As she
watched the sparks go out, there came a rustling of dresses past her
door. She flung herself upon her knees and sought refuge in wild,
wordless prayer.
A fortnight after this Maud went late in the evening to the room
where she knew her father was sitting alone. Paul Enderby looked up
from his papers in surprise; it was some time since Maud had sought
private conversation with him. As he met her pale, resolute face, he
knew that she had a serious purpose in thus visiting him, and his
look changed to one of nervous anticipation.
"Do I disturb you, father?" Maud asked. "Could you spare me a few
minutes?"
Paul nodded, and she took a seat near him.
"Father, I am going to leave home, going to be a governess again."
He drew a sigh of relief; he had expected something worse than this.
Yet the relief was only for a moment, and then he looked at her with
eyes which made her soul fail for very compassion.
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