Jas.
Horrocleave." She thought it rather harsh and oppressive on the part
of Mr. Horrocleave to expect Louis to attend at the works on Bank
Holiday--and so soon after his illness, too! How did Mr. Horrocleave
know that Louis was sufficiently recovered to be able to go to the
works at all?
Louis came, rubbing his hands, which for an instant he warmed at the
fire. He was elegantly dressed. The mere sight of him somehow thrilled
Rachel. His deportment, his politeness, his charming good-nature were
as striking as ever. The one or two stripes (flesh-coloured now,
not whitish) on his face were not too obvious, and, indeed, rather
increased the interest of his features. The horrible week was
forgotten, erased from history, though Rachel would recollect that
even at the worst crisis of it Louis had scarcely once failed in
politeness of speech. It was she who had been impolite--not once,
but often. Louis had never raged. She was contrite, and her penitence
intensified her desire to please, to solace, to obey. When she
realized that it was she who had burnt that enormous sum in
bank-notes, she went cold in the spine.
Not that she cared twopence for the enormous sum, really, now that
concord was established! No, her little flutters of honest remorse
were constantly disappearing in the immense exultant joy of being
alive and of contemplating her idol.
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