his grandfather, ruled the scene from
the centre, in the stillness of which she could almost hear the child's
soft breathing. The prime protector of his dreams was installed beside
him; her father sat there with as little motion--with head thrown back
and supported, with eyes apparently closed, with the fine foot that
was so apt to betray nervousness at peace upon the other knee, with
the unfathomable heart folded in the constant flawless freshness of
the white waistcoat that could always receive in its armholes the firm
prehensile thumbs. Mrs. Noble had majestically melted, and the whole
place signed her temporary abdication; yet the actual situation was
regular, and Maggie lingered but to look. She looked over her fan, the
top of which was pressed against her face, long enough to wonder if her
father really slept or if, aware of her, he only kept consciously quiet.
Did his eyes truly fix her between lids partly open, and was she to
take this--his forebearance from any question--only as a sign again that
everything was left to her? She at all events, for a minute, watched
his immobility--then, as if once more renewing her total submission,
returned, without a sound, to her own quarters.

A strange impulse was sharp in her, but it was not, for her part, the
desire to shift the weight. She could as little have slept as she could
have slept that morning, days before, when she had watched the first
dawn from her window. Turned to the east, this side of her room was now
in shade, with the two wings of the casement folded back and the charm
she always found in her seemingly perched position--as if her outlook,
from above the high terraces, was that of some castle-tower mounted on
a rock. When she stood there she hung over, over the gardens and the
woods--all of which drowsed below her, at this hour, in the immensity of
light. The miles of shade looked hot, the banks of flowers looked
dim; the peacocks on the balustrades let their tails hang limp and the
smaller birds lurked among the leaves. Nothing therefore would have
appeared to stir in the brilliant void if Maggie, at the moment she was
about to turn away, had not caught sight of a moving spot, a clear green
sunshade in the act of descending a flight of steps. It passed down
from the terrace, receding, at a distance, from sight, and carried,
naturally, so as to conceal the head and back of its bearer; but Maggie
had quickly recognised the white dress and the particular mo