But for you--yes, thank
God. I wish she could only stay, Maud, for a month or two; I may be going
then, and would be glad--provided she talks about suitable things--very
glad, Maud, to leave her with you for a week or so.'
There was something, I thought, agitating my father secretly that day. He
had the strange hectic flush I had observed when he grew excited in our
interview in the garden about Uncle Silas. There was something painful,
perhaps even terrible, in the circumstances of the journey he was about
to make, and from my heart I wished the suspense were over, the annoyance
past, and he returned.
That night my father bid me good-night early and went upstairs. After I
had been in bed some little time, I heard his hand-bell ring. This was not
usual. Shortly after I heard his man, Ridley, talking with Mrs. Rusk in
the gallery. I could not be mistaken in their voices. I knew not why I was
startled and excited, and had raised myself to listen on my elbow. But they
were talking quietly, like persons giving or taking an ordinary direction,
and not in the haste of an unusual emergency.
Then I heard the man bid Mrs.
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