She sent a message from the hospital to her maid,
telling her to pack up some things and meet her at the station in time
for the mail at eleven o'clock that night. She had thought of some
friends who lived a nine hours' journey from her home, and had
determined to go to them for a time.
She wrote to her husband also from the hospital. "The girl, Mary
Morris, died of scarlet fever this afternoon in the house to which you
sent her when you were tired of her," she said. "I was with her when
she died. I am going to the Trelawneys to-night; but at present I have
formed no plans for the future."
During the first few days of her stay with the Trelawneys she just
lived from hour to hour, not thinking of anything, past, present, or to
come; but out of this apathy a desire grew by degrees. She wanted to
see Lorrimer. She could speak to him, and she was sure he would help
and advise her. She wrote to him, telling him she particularly wished
to see him on a certain day, and asking him to meet her at the station,
adding by way of postscript: "I do not think I quite know what you
meant when you advised me to go my own way; but if any wrong-doing were
part of the programme I should not be able to carry it out.
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