ce his
confession could not surprise her. She would receive it in the right,
loving, wifely attitude, telling him that he was making too much of
a little, that it was splendid of him to confess, and generally
exonerating and rehabilitating him.

Then he had begun to confess. The horrible change in her tone as he
came to the point had unnerved him. Her wild sobs when the confession
was made completed his dismay. And then, afterwards, her incredible
harshness and cruelty, her renewed refusal, flat and disdainful,
to believe that he was dying--these things were the most wounding
experience of his entire existence. As for her refusal to listen to
the rest of his story, the important part, the exculpatory part--it
was monstrously unjust. He had had an instant's satisfaction on
beholding her confusion at being charged with the lie about the
scullery door, but it was a transient advantage. He was so ill....
She had bullied him with the lacerating emphasis of her taciturn
remarks.... And at last she had requested him not to make it any more
awkward for _her_!...

III

When he had obediently taken the food and thanked her for it very
nicely, he felt much better. The desire for a clergyman, or even for a
lawyer, passed away from his mind; he forgot the majority of his sins
and his aspirations, and the need for restoring the defalcations to
Jim Horrocleave seemed considerably less urgent. Rachel stayed by him
while he ate, but she would not meet his glance, and looked carefully
at the window.

"As soon as I've tidied up the room, I'll just sponge your hands,"
said she. "The doctor will be here early. I suppose I mustn't touch
your face."

Louis inquired--

"How do you know he'll be here early?"

"He said he should--because of the dressings, you know."

She went to work on the room, producing a duster from somewhere, and
ringing for Mrs. Tams, who, however, was not permitted to enter. Louis
hated these preparations for the doctor. He had never in his life been
able to understand why women were always so absurdly afraid of the
doctor's eye. As if the doctor would care! Moreover, the room was
being tidied for the doctor, not for the invalid! The invalid didn't
matter! When she came to him with a bowl of water, soap, and a towel,
he loathed the womanish scheme of being washed in bed.

"I'll get up," he said. "I'm lots better." He had previously intended
to feign extreme illness, but he forgot.

"Oh no, you won't," s