night, Rachel had the delicious and exciting sensation of being
unyoked, of being at liberty for a space to obey the strong, free
common sense of youth instead of conforming to the outworn and
tiresome code of another age. Mrs. Maldon's was certainly a house that
put a strain on the nerves. It did not occur to Rachel that she was
doing aught but a very natural and proper thing. The non-appearance
of Louis Fores was causing disquiet, and her simple aim was to shorten
the period of anxiety. Nor did it occur to her that she was impulsive.
Something had to be done, and she had done something. Not much longer
could she have borne the suspense. All that day she had lived forward
towards supper-time, when Louis Fores would appear. Over and over
again she had lived right through the moment of opening the front door
for him at a little before seven o'clock. The moments between
seven o'clock and a quarter past had been a crescendo of torment,
intolerable at last. His lateness was inexplicable, and he was so
close to that not to look for him would have been ridiculous.

She was apprehensive, and yet she was obscurely happy in her fears.
The large, inviting, dangerous universe was about her--she had escaped
from the confining shelter of the house. And the night was about
her. It was not necessary for her to wear three coats, like the gross
Batchgrew, in order to protect herself from the night! She could go
forth into it with no precaution. She was young. Her vigorous and
confident body might challenge perils.

When she had proceeded a hundred yards she stopped and turned to look
back at the cluster of houses collectively called Bycars.

The distinctive bow-window of Mrs. Maldon's shone yellow. Within the
sacred room was still the old lady, sitting expectant, and trying to