She made scarcely any pretence to eat the luncheon that Mrs. Lovelace brought her. She had never before been in such a ferment of disquietude. Those few awful moments of Jake's silent scrutiny had shaken her to the very foundations of her being. She felt that he had ruthlessly forced his way past her defences and looked upon her naked soul. And she realized that he had spoken the truth when he had said that she could not deceive him. He could tear her reserve from her like a garment and expose her most secret thoughts.
She spent most of the afternoon in pacing to and fro, for she could not rest. Her feet were soaked with the drenched orchard grass, but she did not know it. Her limbs were strung to a feverish activity. There were times when she thought she would go mad.
The hours crawled by leaden-footed. She did not know in the least when Charlie would come, but she began to expect him long before he could possibly arrive, and the waiting became a torment that chafed her intolerably. If he would only come soon--so that she might make her petition and let him go!
Back and forth, back and forth, she wandered, conscious sometimes of a dreadful, physical sinking, but for the most part too torn with anxiety to be aware of anything else. And Chops paced with her in mute sympathy with her distress.
The afternoon was beginning to wane towards evening when Mrs. Lovelace came forth once more in search of her--Mrs. Lovelace with prim, set lips, sternly disapproving.
"You'll make yourself bad if you go on, ma'am," she said. "And if you please, Mrs. Wright is here, and I'm laying the cloth for tea."
"Mrs. Wright!" Maud looked at her with dazed eyes, bringing her thoughts back as it were from afar.
"There she is!" said Mrs. Lovelace.
And even as she spoke Maud caught sight of the comfortable, portly figure standing on the steps.
She gave a gasp that was almost a cry, and began to hasten towards her.