n contented for the moment, since
she could sit and watch by her father; she remained
motionless, her eyes fixed on his face, her hands clasped
round her knees, her whole mind so absorbed in keeping
perfectly quiet, the one thing she could do for him just then,
that she hardly ventured to breathe. But not even yet did she
understand the full meaning of what had happened, nor clearly
comprehend all that she had to dread. She was not really
afraid that her father would not recover; she knew indeed that
he was very ill, much worse than he had ever been at Florence,
and that it might be a long, long time before he would be well
again, but she did not think that he was going to die. She had
asked the question indeed, prompted by an instinctive terror
that had seized her, but in fact she hardly knew what death
meant, much less had she ever conceived of her father as dead,
or imagined life without him. Nevertheless, the sudden panic
had left a nameless, unrecognized fear lurking somewhere,
which gave an added intensity to her desire that he would wake
up and speak to her once more; and sometimes the beating of
her own heart seemed to deafen her, so that she could not hear
the sound of his heavy irregular breathing, and then nothing
but the dread of disturbing him could have prevented her from
jumping up and going to him to make sure that he was still
sleeping. When would he awaken and look at her and speak to
her again? It appeared so long since she had heard his voice,
and seen him smile at her; since he had wished her good-bye
the evening before, she seemed to have lived through such long
hours of unimagined terror and sorrow, and all without being
able to turn to him for the sure help, for the loving
protection and sympathy that had ever been ready for his
little Madelon; and even now, he did not know how she was
watching him, nor how she was longing to go to him and kiss
him, to put her arms round his neck, and lay her soft little
cheek caressingly against his. This thought was the most
grievous of all to Madelon just then, and the big tears came
into her eyes again, and fell slowly one by one into her lap.

Graham, however, returning presently, somehow seemed to bring
courage and consolation with him. Madelon brightened up at
once when he sat down by her and told her that he had asked
Madame Lavaux to send them up some coffee, so that they might
have it together there; and then, seeing the tears on her sad
little fac