"But it's worse, Lizzie. I seem to-night to have seen myself as I am—more clearly than before. My priggishness—talking so much about Truth and then—the things I do. Roddy, Francis, all the same. I've treated them all badly. I've been true to no one. I'm no good...."
"Promise me, dear, that you'll tell him—your husband—everything—to-morrow. Promise me."
"But Lizzie, perhaps——"
"No—no—no. Everything. To-morrow."
"He'll hate me. He'll——"
"No matter. You must. To-morrow."
Rachel was silent. Then she looked into Lizzie's face. "Yes," she said, "I will."
Then, with a little sigh, she fainted.