“I am satisfied, too, that he has anxieties concealed from me. That they are associated with something upon which the back door opens, I have no doubt. There are several reasons for my thinking so. I am so nearly well now that I could get about and be helpful to him if he would only make me a crutch, as I have often begged him to do; but he has always put me off, saying that it was too early for a crutch, that my desire to be useful would give me a serious setback through making me overdo, and that the main thing for us both to consider was the return of my strength as quickly as possible, and our escape on snow-shoes that he would make as soon as I should be able to walk. It has all sounded very plausible, but it seems to me that common-sense would suggest that I take a little exercise. In spite of my having regained my flesh, I am as weak as an infant. Knowing that he is a good physician, I doubt his sincerity about the crutch. I believe the solemn truth is that he fears I would try to invade his cherished secret if I were able to be about. “I know that he keeps the provisions in the place into which the back door opens, and that this fact seems to give him a sufficient excuse for going there so often,--especially as he does the cooking there; and that is another strange circumstance. For weeks after I was first brought to the hut he prepared the food on the broad hearth here; but after a while he did that in the rear apartment, explaining that the odors from the cooking were not good for me, and that it was uncomfortable for him to cook before an open fireplace. I protested that I did not mind the odors, and he replied that I would at least consider his comfort. “Another thing: He has not eaten with me for a long, long time. His original plan was to prepare my meal, wait on me until I had finished, and then have his own at the little table in the chimney-corner. I did not observe for some time that he had quit eating in that way, and that he took his meals in the rear apartment. He always speaks of it as an ‘apartment,’ and not as a room. I wonder why. I have been sitting up for a long time now, and do not require his assistance after he has brought me my food. It would be much pleasanter if he would sit at the little table and eat with me. Is his dislike of me so deep that he cannot eat with me? With all my sense, I have permitted this condition of affairs to come about! And we both are sufferers by it.