was no Zachariah, and she thought she would make the tea, as he was
never long over his meals. Half-past six, and he was not there. The
two now sat down, and began to listen to every sound. The coach was
ordered at a quarter to seven.

"What shall we do?" said the Major. "I cannot send you on and wait
for him."

"No. How vexing it is! It is just like--" and she stopped.

"We must stay where we are, I suppose; it is rather a pity to miss
being there when Kean first comes on."

She was in a fretful agony of impatience. She rose and looked out of
the window, thought she heard somebody on the stairs, went outside on
the landing, returned, walked up and down, and mentally cursed her
husband, not profanely--she dared not do that--but with curses none
the less intense. Poor man! he had been kept by a job he had to
finish. She might have thought this possible, and, in fact, did
think it possible; but it made no difference in the hatred which she
permitted to rise against him. At last her animosity relaxed, and
she began to regard him with more composure, and even with pleasure.

"Had you not better go and leave me here, so that we may follow? I
do not know what has happened, and I am sure he would be so sorry if
you were to be disappointed."

She turned her eyes anxiously towards the Major.

"That will never do. You know nothing about the theatre. No! no!"