till Madame happened to return.'

'What kind of man--young or old?'

'A young man; he looked like a farmer's son, but very impudent, and stood
there talking to me whether I would or not; and Madame did not care at
all, and laughed at me for being frightened; and, indeed, I am very
uncomfortable with her.'

He gave me another shrewd look, and then looked down cloudily and thought.

'You say you are uncomfortable and frightened. How is this--what causes
these feelings?'

'I don't know, sir; she likes frightening me; I am afraid of her--we are
all afraid of her, I think. The servants, I mean, as well as I.'

My father nodded his head contemptuously, twice or thrice, and muttered, 'A
pack of fools!'

'And she was so very angry to-day with me, because I would not walk again
with her to Church Scarsdale. I am very much afraid of her. I--' and quite
unpremeditatedly I burst into tears.

'There, there, little Maud, you must not cry. She is here only for your
good. If you are afraid--even _foolishly_ afraid--it is enough. Be it as
you say; your walks are henceforward confined to the grounds; I'll tell her
so.'

I thanked him through my tears very earnestly.

'But, Maud, beware of prejudice; women are unjust and violent in their
judgments. Your family has suffered in some of its members by such
injustice. It behoves us to be careful not to practise it.'

That evening in the drawing-room my father said, in his usual abrupt way--

'About my departure, Maud: I've had a letter from London this morning, and
I think I shall be called away sooner than I at first supposed, and for a
little time we must manage apart from one another. Do not be alarmed. You
shall not be in Madame de la Rougierre's charge, but under the care of a
relation; but even so, little Maud will miss her old father, I think.'

His tone was very tender, so were his looks; he was looking down on me with
a smile, and tears were in his eyes. This softening was new to me. I felt a
strange thrill of surprise, delight, and love, and springing up, I threw my
arms about his neck and wept in silence. He, I think, shed tears also.

'You said a visitor was coming; some one, you mean, to go away with. Ah,
yes, you love him better than me.'

'No, dear, no; but I _fear_ him; and I am sorry to leave you, little Maud.'

'It won't be very long,' I pleaded.

'No, dear,' he answered with a sigh.

I was tempted almost to question him more closely on the subject, but h