Left alone, Fleda sat down on the floor by the easy chair, and rested her head there, waiting she could do nothing else till her extreme excitement of body and mind should have quieted itself. She had a kind of vague hope that time would do something for her before Hugh came in. Perhaps it did; for though she lay in a kind of stupor, and was conscious of no change whatever she was able, when she heard him coming, to get up and sit in the chair in an ordinary attitude. But she looked like the wraith of herself an hour ago.
"Fleda!" Hugh exclaimed, as soon as he looked from the fire to her face; "what is the matter? what is the matter with you?"
"I am not very well I don't feel very well," said Fleda, speaking almost mechanically; "I shall have a headache to- morrow."
"Headache! But you look shockingly: what has happened to you? what is the matter, Fleda?"
"I am not ill I shall be better by and by. There is nothing the matter with me that need trouble you, dear Hugh."
"Nothing the matter with you," said he, and Fleda might see how she looked in the reflection of his face; "where's mother?"
"She is up stairs you mustn't go to her, Hugh!" said Fleda, laying a detaining hand upon him with more strength than she thought she had; "I don't want anything."
"Why mustn't I go to her?"
"I don't think she wants to be disturbed"
"I must disturb her"