y breath
came in painful, ridiculous gulps. For a moment I made an effort to
control my grief; and then I gave way utterly, crying with my whole
body like a little child, until, like a little child, I fell asleep.

When I awoke the room was grey with dusk, and I sat up with a
swaying head, glad to hide the shame of my foolish swollen face
amongst the shadows. My mouth was still salt with tears, and I was
very thirsty, but I was always anxious to hide my weakness from
other people, and I was afraid that if I asked for something to
drink they would see that I had been crying. The fire had gone out
while I slept, and I felt cold and stiff, but my abandonment of
restraint had relieved me, and my fear was now no more than a vague
unrest. My mind thought slowly but very clearly. I saw that it was a
pity that I had not been more ill than I was, for then, like my
brother, I should have gone away for a month instead of a fortnight.
As it was, everybody laughed at me because I looked so well, and
said they did not believe that I had been ill at all. If I had
thought of it earlier I might have been able to make myself worse
somehow or other, but now it was too late. When the maid came in and
lit the gas for tea she blamed me for letting the fire out, and told
me that I had a dirty face. I was glad of the chance to slip away
and wash my burning cheeks in cold water. When I had finished and
dried my face on the rough towel I looked at myself in the glass. I
looked as if I had been to the seaside for a holiday, my cheeks were
so red!

That night as I lay sleepless in my bed, seeking for a cool place
between the sheets in which to rest my hot feet, the sickness of fear
returned to me, and I knew that I was lost. I shut my eyes tightly,
but I could not shut out the vivid pictures of school life that my
memory had stored up for my torment; I beat my head against the
pillow, but I could not change my thoughts. I recalled all the
possible events that might interfere with my return to school, a new
illness, a railway accident, even suicide, but my reason would not
accept these romantic issues. I was helpless before my destiny, and
my destiny made me I afraid.

And then, perhaps I was half asleep or fond with fear, I leapt out of
bed and stood in the middle of the room to meet life and fight it.
The hem of my nightshirt tickled my shin and my feet grew cold on the
carpet; but though I stood ready with my fists clenched I could see
no a