d. She ate a good dinner at one
o'clock, with Mrs. Tams in the kitchen, one or the other mounting at
short intervals to see if Mrs. Maldon had stirred. Then she changed
into her second-best frock, in anticipation of the doctor's Sunday
afternoon visit, strictly commanded Mrs. Tams (but with relenting
kindness in her voice) to go and lie down, and established herself
neatly in the sick-room.

Though her breathing had become noiseless again, Mrs. Maldon still
slept. She had wakened only once since the previous night. She lay
calm and dignified in slumber--an old and devastated woman, with that
disconcerting resemblance to a corpse shown by all aged people
asleep, but yet with little sign of positive illness save the slight
distortion of her features caused by the original attack. Rachel sat
idle, prim, in vague reflection, at intervals smoothing her petticoat,
or giving a faint cough, or gazing at the mild blue September sky. She
might have been reading a book, but she was not by choice a reader.
She had the rare capacity of merely existing. Her thoughts flitted to
and fro, now resting on Mrs. Maldon with solemnity, now on Mrs. Tams
with amused benevolence, now on old Batchgrew with lofty disgust, and
now on Louis Fores with unquiet curiosity and delicious apprehension.

She gave a little shudder of fright and instantly controlled it--Mrs.
Maldon, instead of being asleep, was looking at her. She rose and went
to the bedside and stood over the sick woman, by the pillow, benignly,
asking with her eyes what desire of the sufferer's she might fulfil.
And Mrs. Maldon looked up at her with another benignity. And they both
smiled.

"You've slept very well," said Rachel softly.

Mrs. Maldon, continuing to smile, gave a scarcely perceptible
affirmative movement of the head.

"Will you have some of your Revalenta? I've only got to warm it, here.
Everything's ready."

"Nothing, thank you, dear," said Mrs. Maldon, in a firm,
matter-of-fact voice.

The doctor had left word that food was not to be forced on her.

"Do you feel better?"

Mrs. Maldon answered, in a peculiar tone--

"My dear, I shall never feel any better than I do now."

"Oh, you mustn't talk like that!" said Rachel in gay protest.

"I want to talk to you, Rachel," said Mrs. Maldon, once more
reassuringly matter-of-fact. "Sit down there."

Rachel obediently perched herself on the bed, and bent her head. And
her face, which was now much closer to Mrs. Mald