me as nothing else could or did; nay, the sudden noise upon the stairs, the knock at my door, and the sense that I had betrayed myself already even now all was over - these came as a relief after the haunting terror which they interrupted.
I flung the door opcn, and there stood Mrs. Braithwaite, as fully dressed as myself.
“You’ll not be very well sir?”
No, I’m not.”
“What’s t’ matter wi’ you?”
This second question was rude and fierce with suspicion: the real woman rang out in it, yet its effect
to my pen, but every one of them is true; he was flowers in spring, he was sunshine after rain, he was rain following long months of drought. I slept admirably after all; and I awoke to see the overturned toilet-table, and to thrill as I remembered there was one fellow-creature with whom I could fraternize