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.