“So glad you’ve come, Daddy,” she said, in a soft, low voice.  “I’ve been wanting you.  It’s nearly bedtime, isn’t it?”

He went to her, treading lightly.  His thoughts had been all of her for the past few hours and in consequence he looked at her more critically than usual.  For the first time he was struck by her pallor, her look of deathly weariness.  On the table near her lay a plate of boiled rice piled high in a snowy pyramid.  He saw that it had not been touched.

“Why, child,” he said, a sudden new anxiety at his heart “you have had nothing to eat.  You’re not ill?”

She roused herself a little, and a very faint colour crept into her white cheeks.  “No, dear, only tired—­too tired to be hungry,” she told him.  “That rice is for you.”

He sat down beside her with a sound that was almost a groan.  “You must eat something, child,” he said.  “Being penned up here takes away your appetite.  But all the same you must eat.”

She sat up slowly, and pushed back the heavy hair from her forehead with a sigh.

“Very well, Daddy,” she said submissively.  “But you must have some too, dear.  I couldn’t possible eat it all.”

Something in his attitude or expression seemed to strike her at this point, and she made a determined effort to shake off her lethargy.  A spoon and fork lay by the plate.  She handed him the former and kept the latter for herself.

“We’ll have a picnic, Daddy.” she said, with a wistful little smile.  “I told ayah always to bring two plates, but she has forgotten.  We don’t mind, though, do we?”

It was childishly spoken, but the pathos of it went straight to the man’s heart.  He tasted the rice under her watching eyes and pronounced it very good; then waited for her to follow his example which she did with a slight shudder.

“Delicious, Daddy, isn’t it?” she said.  And even he did not guess what courage underlay the words.

They kept up the farce till the pyramid was somewhat reduced; then by mutual consent they suffered their ardour to flag.  There was a faint colour in the girl’s thin face as she leaned back again.  Her eyes were brighter, the lids drooped less.

“I had a dream last night, Daddy,” she said, “such a curious dream, and so vivid.  I thought I was out on the mountains with some one.  I don’t know who it was, but it was some one very nice.  It seemed to be very near the sunrise, for it was quite bright up above, though it was almost dark where we stood.  And, do you know—­don’t laugh, Daddy, I know it was only a silly dream—­when I looked up, I saw that everywhere the mountains were full of horses and chariots of fire.  I felt so safe, Daddy, and so happy.  I could have cried when I woke up.”

She paused.  It was rather difficult for her to make conversation for the silent man who sat beside her so gloomy and preoccupied.  Save that she loved her father as she loved no one else on earth, she might have felt awed in his presence.