Meynell made him drink a little more brandy, and then he went out to the person standing motionless on the stairs.
"What did you want, sir?" said Mrs. Bateson, under her breath.
"Mrs. Bateson—he begs you to come to him! He's sorry for his conduct—he says you can see for yourself that he can't wrong you any more. Come—and be merciful!"
The woman paused. The Rector could see the shiver of her thin shoulders under her print dress. Then she turned and quietly descended the cottage stairway. Half way down she looked up.
"Tell him I should do him nowt but harm. I"—her voice trembled for the first time—"I doan't bear him malice; I hope he'll not suffer. But I'm not comin'."
"Wait a moment, Mrs. Bateson! I was to tell you that in spite of all, he loved you—and he wanted your love."
She shook her head.
"It's no good talkin' that way. It'll mebbe use up his strength. Tell him I'd have got Lizzie Short to come an' nurse 'im, if I could. It's her place. But he knows as she an' her man flitted a fortnight sen, an' theer's no address."
And she disappeared. But at the foot of the stairs—standing unseen—she said in her usual tone:
"If there was a cup o' tea, I could bring you, sir—or anythin'?"