w little honest and
sincere love there is in the world, that Maud should never have known
of Lord Ravenel's.

Possibly, against my will, my answer implied something of this; for
John was a long time silent. Then he began to talk of various matters;
telling me of many improvements he was planning and executing, on his
property, and among his people. In all his plans, and in the carrying
out of them, I noticed one peculiarity, strong in him throughout his
life, but latterly grown stronger than ever--namely, that whatever he
found to do, he did immediately. Procrastination had never been one of
his faults; now, he seemed to have a horror of putting anything off
even for a single hour. Nothing that could be done did he lay aside
until it was done; his business affairs were kept in perfect order,
each day's work being completed with the day. And in the
thousand-and-one little things that were constantly arising, from his
position as magistrate and land-owner, and his general interest in the
movements of the time, the same system was invariably pursued. In his
relations with the world outside, as in his own little valley, he
seemed determined to "work while it was day." If he could possibly
avoid it, no application was ever unattended to; no duty left
unfinished; no good unacknowledged; no evil unremedied, or at least
unforgiven.

"John," I said, as to-day this peculiarity of his struck me more than
usual, "thou art certainly one of the faithful servants whom the Master
when He cometh will find watching."

"I hope so. It ought to be thus with all men--but especially with me."

I imagined from his tone that he was thinking of his responsibility as
father, master, owner of large wealth. How could I know--how could I
guess--beyond this!

"Do you think she looks pale, Phineas?" he asked suddenly.

"Who--your wife?"

"No--Maud. My little Maud."

It was but lately that he called her "his" little Maud; since with that
extreme tenacity of attachment which was a part of his nature--refusing
to put any one love in another love's place--his second daughter had
never been to him like the first. Now, however, I had noticed that he
took Maud nearer to his heart, made her more often his companion,
watching her with a sedulous tenderness--it was easy to guess why.

"She may have looked a little paler of late, a little more thoughtful.
But I am sure she is not unhappy."

"I believe not--thank God!"

"Surely," I said an