he was glad that she had taken the initiative. And
he was content that she should go. After the scene of the previous
night, their relations could not again have been exactly what the
relations between master and servant ought to be. And further, "you
never knew what women wouldn't tell one another," even mistress and
maid, maid and mistress. Yes, he preferred that she should leave. He
admired her and regretted the hardship on the old woman--and that was
an end of it! What could he do to ease her? The only thing to do would
be to tell her privately that so far as he was concerned she might
stay. But he had no intention of doing aught so foolish. It was
strange, but he was entirely unconscious of any obligation to her for
the immense service she had rendered him. His conclusion was that some
people have to be martyrs. And in this he was deeply right.

Rachel, misreading his expression, thought that he did not wish to be
bothered with household details. She recalled some gratuitous advice
half humorously offered to her by a middle-aged lady at her reception,
"Never talk servants to your men." She had thought, at the time, "I
shall talk everything with _my_ husband." But she considered that
she was wiser now.

"By the way," she said in a new tone, "there's a post-card for you.
I've read it. Couldn't help."

Louis read the post-card. He paled, and Rachel noticed his pallor. The
fact was that in his mind he had simply shelved, and shelved again,
the threat of James Horrocleave. He had sincerely desired to tell a
large portion of the truth to Rachel, taking advantage of her soft
mood; but he could not; he could not force his mouth to open on the
subject. In some hours he had quite forgotten the danger--he was
capable of such feats--then it reasserted itself and he gazed on it
fascinated and helpless. When Rachel, to please him and prove her
subjugation, had suggested that they should go to church--"for the
Easter morning service"--he had concurred, knowing, nevertheless,
that he dared not fail to meet Horrocleave at the works. On the whole,
though it gave him a shock, he was relieved that Horrocleave had sent
the post-card and that Rachel had seen it. But he still was quite
unable to decide what to do.

"It's a nice thing, him asking you to go to the works on a Bank
Holiday like that!" Rachel remarked.

Louis answered: "It's not to-morrow he wants me. It's to-day."

"Sunday!" she exclaimed.

"Yes. I met him for a se