m my high organization
and special training--I, like any brutal hind, had berated my wife. I,
who was punctilious to draw the silken portiere for her, who could not
let her pick up so much as her own lace handkerchief, nor allow her to
fold a wrap of the weight of a curlew's feather about her own soft
throat--I had belaboured her with the bludgeons that bruise the life
out of women's souls. I wondered, indeed, if I should have been a less
amiable fellow if I had worn cow-hide boots and kicked her.

My reproaches, my remorses, my distresses, it is now an idle tale to
tell. That night passed like none before it, and none which have come
after it. My mind moved with a piteous monotony over and over and
about the aching thought: to see Helen--to see Helen--to be patient
till morning, and tell Helen--Only to get through this horrible night,
and hurry, rushing to the morning air, to the nearest cab dashing down
the street, and making the mad haste of love and shame, to see my
wife--to tell my wife--

As never in all our lives before, I should tell her how dear she was;
how unworthy was I to love her; how I loved her just as much as if I
were worthy, and could not help it though I tried--or (as we say) could
not help it though I died! I should run up, ringing the bell, never
waiting to find the latch-key--for I could wait for nothing. I should
spring into the house, and find her upstairs, in our own room; it would
be so early; she would be only half-dressed yet, pale and lovely,
looking like a spirit, far across the rich colours of the room, her
long hair loose about her. I should gather her to my heart before she
saw me; my arms and lips should speak before my breaking voice. I
should kiss my soul out on her lifted face. I should love her so, she
should forgive me before I could so much as say, Forgive! And when I
had her--to myself again--when these arms were sure of their own, and
these lips of hers, when her precious breath was on this cheek again,
and I could say;--

"Helen, Helen, Helen"--

and could say no more, for love and shame and sorrow, but only--

"Helen, Helen"--

"Yes," said the watchman's voice in the corridor. "It is all right,
sir. Me and Inspector Drayton, we thought we beard a noise, last
night, and we considered it safe to look about. We had a thorough
search. We thought we'd better. But there wasn't nothing. It's all
straight, sir."

It was morning, and Brake's clerk was coming