sowned him before men and left him unscreened to the triumphant scorn
of those who were glad to have their hatred justified--the sense of
utter futility in that equivocation with his conscience in dealing with
the life of his accomplice, an equivocation which now turned venomously
upon him with the full-grown fang of a discovered lie:--all this
rushed through him like the agony of terror which fails to kill, and
leaves the ears still open to the returning wave of execration. The
sudden sense of exposure after the re-established sense of safety
came--not to the coarse organization of a criminal but to--the
susceptible nerve of a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery
and predominance as the conditions of his life had shaped for him.

But in that intense being lay the strength of reaction. Through all
his bodily infirmity there ran a tenacious nerve of ambitious
self-preserving will, which had continually leaped out like a flame,
scattering all doctrinal fears, and which, even while he sat an object
of compassion for the merciful, was beginning to stir and glow under
his ashy paleness. Before the last words were out of Mr. Hawley's
mouth, Bulstrode felt that he should answer, and that his answer would
be a retort. He dared not get up and say, "I am not guilty, the whole
story is false"--even if he had dared this, it would have seemed to
him, under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for
covering to his nakedness, a frail rag which would rend at every little
strain.

For a few moments there was total silence, while every man in the room
was looking at Bulstrode. He sat perfectly still, leaning hard against
the back of his chair; he could not venture to rise, and when he began
to speak he pressed his hands upon the seat on each side of him. But
his voice was perfectly audible, though hoarser than usual, and his
words were distinctly pronounced, though he paused between sentence as
if short of breath. He said, turning first toward Mr. Thesiger, and
then looking at Mr. Hawley--

"I protest before you, sir, as a Christian minister, against the
sanction of proceedings towards me which are dictated by virulent
hatred. Those who are hostile to me are glad to believe any libel
uttered by a loose tongue against me. And their consciences become
strict against me. Say that the evil-speaking of which I am to be made
the victim accuses me of malpractices--" here Bulstrode's voice rose
and took on