Book Two The Woman - Chapter 39 How I Went Down Into the Shadows

"Peter," said George, one evening, turning to me with the troubled
look I had seen so often on his face of late, "what be wrong wi'
you, my chap? You be growing paler everyday. Oh, Peter! you be
like a man as is dyin' by inches--if 'tis any o' my doin'--"

"Nonsense, George!" I broke in with sudden asperity, "I am well
enough!"

"Yet I've seen your 'ands fall a-trembling sometimes, Peter--all
at once. An' you missed your stroke yesterday--come square down
on th' anvil--you can't ha' forgot?"

"I remember," I muttered; "I remember."

"An' twice again to-day. An' you be silent, Peter, an' don't
seem to 'ear when spoke to, an' short in your temper--oh, you
bean't the man you was. I've see it a-comin' on you more an'
more. Oh, man, Peter!" he cried, turning his back upon me
suddenly, "you as I'd let walk over me--you as I'd be cut in
pieces for--if it be me as done it--"

"No, no, George--it wasn't you--of course not. If I am a little
strange it is probably due to lack of sleep, nothing more."

"Ye see, Peter, I tried so 'ard to kill 'ee, an' you said
yourself as I come nigh doin' it--"

"But then, you didn't quite manage it," I cried harshly--"would
to God you had; as it is, I am alive, and there's an end of it."