Must I go on my bended
knees to ye?"
And then the firm but soft voice of Mrs. Maldon--
"I must speak to Mr. Batchgrew. I must have Mr. Batchgrew here at
once. Didn't you hear me call and call to you?"
"That I didn't, ma'am! I was beating the feather bed in the back
bedroom. Nay, not a step lower do you go, ma'am, not if I lose me job
for it."
Thomas Batchgrew and Louis were already out in the hall. Half-way down
the stairs stood Mrs. Maldon, supporting herself by the banisters and
being supported by Mrs. Tams. She was wearing her pink peignoir with
white frills at the neck and wrists. Her black hair was loose on her
shoulders like the hair of a young girl. Her pallid and heavily seamed
features with the deep shining eyes trembled gently, as if in response
to a distant vibration. She gazed upon the two silent men with
an expression that united benignancy with profound inquietude and
sadness. All her past life was in her face, inspiring it with strength
and sorrow.
"Mr. Batchgrew," she said. "I've heard your voice for a long time. I
want to speak to you."
And then she turned, yielded to the solicitous alarm of Mrs. Tams,
climbed feebly up the stairs, and vanished round the corner at the
top.
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