With the words he sat down rather heavily in the chair by her side, and there fell a silence, a dragging, difficult silence. Maud's heart was beating very fast. Had he come to talk about that letter from Saltash? Was he about to make a scene?
His stillness began to act upon her nerves. She turned towards him restlessly. "Oh, what is it?" she said, veiling her doubt with a show of impatience.
He stretched out a strong hand and took one of hers. "It's you, my girl," he said, and in his voice was a note of anxiety that partly reassured her. "You've not been yourself lately. Guess there's something the matter."
"There is nothing the matter," she said hastily.
He held her hand closely. "You've no call to be afraid of me," he said gently. "Maybe, I've been rough and rude at times. I've never meant it, my princess. I can't live up to you always; but I try,--God knows I try!"
A sudden tremor sounded in his voice; he became abruptly silent.
Maud's hand was hard clenched in his. She did not look at him; but the beating of her heart rose up between them--a hard, insistent drumming that she was powerless to control.
After a brief space he spoke again, his voice quite steady and controlled. "Reckon you're not happy. Reckon you're not well either. I've been thinking maybe you'd like to go away for a spell--you and the boy. If so, I'm willing to manage it. It'll be a bit of a rest for you."
He paused. The clenched hand he held had made a sharp, convulsive movement as if at a sudden twinge of pain. Maud lay breathing rapidly, her eyes fixed upon the flame of the candle.
He waited a few moments; then, "What do you think of the proposition, my girl?" he asked.