He pressed my hand gently.  “Remember what I told you on the moor,” he answered.  “If I can do you this little service, Mr. Blake, I shall feel it like a last gleam of sunshine, falling on the evening of a long and clouded day.”

We parted.  It was then the fifteenth of June.  The events of the next ten days—­every one of them more or less directly connected with the experiment of which I was the passive object—­are all placed on record, exactly as they happened, in the Journal habitually kept by Mr. Candy’s assistant.  In the pages of Ezra Jennings nothing is concealed, and nothing is forgotten.  Let Ezra Jennings tell how the venture with the opium was tried, and how it ended.

FOURTH NARRATIVE

Extracted from the Journal of EZRA JENNINGS

1849.—­June 15....  With some interruption from patients, and some interruption from pain, I finished my letter to Miss Verinder in time for to-day’s post.  I failed to make it as short a letter as I could have wished.  But I think I have made it plain.  It leaves her entirely mistress of her own decision.  If she consents to assist the experiment, she consents of her own free will, and not as a favour to Mr. Franklin Blake or to me.

June 16th.—­Rose late, after a dreadful night; the vengeance of yesterday’s opium, pursuing me through a series of frightful dreams.  At one time I was whirling through empty space with the phantoms of the dead, friends and enemies together.  At another, the one beloved face which I shall never see again, rose at my bedside, hideously phosphorescent in the black darkness, and glared and grinned at me.  A slight return of the old pain, at the usual time in the early morning, was welcome as a change.  It dispelled the visions—­and it was bearable because it did that.

My bad night made it late in the morning, before I could get to Mr. Franklin Blake.  I found him stretched on the sofa, breakfasting on brandy and soda-water, and a dry biscuit.

“I am beginning, as well as you could possibly wish,” he said.  “A miserable, restless night; and a total failure of appetite this morning.  Exactly what happened last year, when I gave up my cigars.  The sooner I am ready for my second dose of laudanum, the better I shall be pleased.”

“You shall have it on the earliest possible day,” I answered.  “In the meantime, we must be as careful of your health as we can.  If we allow you to become exhausted, we shall fail in that way.  You must get an appetite for your dinner.  In other words, you must get a ride or a walk this morning, in the fresh air.”

“I will ride, if they can find me a horse here.  By-the-by, I wrote to Mr. Bruff, yesterday.  Have you written to Miss Verinder?”

“Yes—­by last night’s post.”