She offered up prayers that Chasuble might win, although it did not
seem right to address God on the subject, but her heart often felt like
breaking, and she had to do something. And she had no doubt that God would
forgive her. But now that the day had come she did not feel as if he had
granted her request. At the same time it did not seem possible that her
husband was going to die. It was all so hard to understand.
She stopped at the "Bell and Horns" to see what the time was, and was
surprised to find it was half-an-hour later than she had expected. The
race was being run, Chasuble's hoofs were deciding whether her husband was
to live or die. It was on the wire by this time. The wires were distinct
upon a blue and dove-coloured sky. Did that one go to Newmarket, or the
other? Which?
The red building came in sight, and a patient walked slowly up the walk,
his back turned to her; another had sat down to rest. Sixteen years ago
patients were walking there then, and the leaves were scattering then just
as now.... Without transition of thought she wondered when the first boy
would appear with the news. William was not in the grounds; he was
upstairs behind those windows. Poor fellow, she could fancy him sitting
there. Perhaps he was watching for her out of one of those windows. But
there was no use her going up until she had the news; she must wait for
the paper.
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