And there was no escape for her.
She could not telegraph--the day being Sunday. Moreover, except Thomas
Batchgrew, there was nobody to whom she might telegraph. And she did
not want Mr. Batchgrew. Though Mr. Batchgrew certainly had not guessed
the relapse, she felt no desire whatever to let him have news.
She hated his blundering intrusions; and in spite of the doctor's
statements she would insist to herself that he and Louis between them
had somehow brought about the change in Mrs. Maldon. Of course she
might fetch Louis. She did not know his exact address, but he could
be discovered. At any rate, Mrs. Tams might be sent for him. But she
could not bring herself to make any advance towards Louis.
At a little after six o'clock, when the rare chapel-goers had ceased
to pass, and the still rarer church-goers were beginning to respond
to distant bells, Mrs. Tams informed her that tea was ready for her in
the parlour, and she descended and took tea, utterly alone. Mrs. Tams
had lighted the fire, and had moved the table comfortably towards the
fire--act of astounding initiative and courage, in itself a dramatic
proof that Mrs. Maldon no longer reigned at Bycars. Tea finished,
Rachel returned to the sick-room, where there was nothing whatever
to do except watch the minutes recede.
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