HARVEST Another five days went by--to me they were days of most unspeakable doubt and anguish.

Each morning at breakfast I waited for the coming of Jane with an anxiety which was all the more dreadful because I forced myself to conceal it.

There had been no further conversation between us about the matter that haunted both our minds, and so fearful was I lest she should divine my suspense that except in the most casual way I did not even dare to look at her as she entered the room.
On the fifth morning she was late for breakfast, not a common thing, for as a rule she rose early.

I sent one of the parlour-maids to her room to ask if she was coming down, and stood awaiting the answer with much the same feeling as a criminal on his trial awaits the verdict of the jury.
Presently the girl returned with the message that Miss Therne would be down in a few minutes, whereat I breathed again and swallowed a little food, which till then I had been unable to touch.
Soon she came, and I saw that she was rather pale and languid, owing to the heat, perhaps, but that otherwise she looked much as usual.
"You are late, dear," I said unconcernedly.
"Yes, father," she answered; "I woke up with a little headache and went to sleep again.

It has gone now; I suppose that it is the heat." As she spoke she kissed me, and I thought--but this may have been fancy--that her breath felt cold upon my cheek.
"I daresay," I said, and we sat down to table.