“...I didn't write last week, because I had so much to do. I really didn't have time, and you know how busy we get during these days with the examinations coming on and everything.
“I'm very well, except that I have these headaches—nothing at all, and I'm taking these liver pills that you told me of. I hope you 're all right, and that Dr. Sanders comes to see you every week. Keeping warm's the thing, old lady, with this weather, and that shawl that Miss Bennett gave you is the very thing—mind you wear it, and don't sit in draughts. I'm all right...”
And then the pen dropped from his fingers, and his head fell between his hands. He wanted to tell her about Miss Desart, that she needn't be afraid now of his marrying anyone, that he was never going to marry.... His mind was very clear now. It was like a moor when the mists have lifted away from it.... His unhappiness came all about him and held him to the ground. He did not hate Traill—Traill could not help it; but he wanted her—oh! he wanted her so dreadfully.
He slipped on to his knees on the ground, and he was terribly troubled so that his back shook. He began with desperation, as though it were his last hold on life, to pray.
“Oh! God, God, God!... Help me!... Do not let me go back again to that state that I have just been in. I cannot hold myself when I am like that. I do not know what I am doing or thinking. But it is all so hard—there are so many little things—there is no time!... They will not let me alone. Oh, God! give me my chance, give me my chance! Give me someone to love; I am so terribly alone... nobody wants me. Oh, God! do not let me go back to that darkness again.... I am so afraid of what I may do...”
But at last exhaustion took him, there on the floor, and he slept with his head on his arm.
And suddenly he awoke in the middle of the night and found himself there—and it was all very dark. He rose to his feet and was terribly frightened, because there, a gray figure against the fireplace, was the other Mr. Perrin—and he knew that God had not answered his prayer, and he cursed God and stumbled to his bed.
III.
And after that, things, for him, developed in an amazing way. He was quite sure now that God hated him.
Now that he was sure of that, he need not care so much about keeping that box closed—he was damned anyhow.