June 24th.—­Mr. Blake and I took a long drive in an open carriage.  We both felt beneficially the blessed influence of the soft summer air.  I dined with him at the hotel.  To my great relief—­for I found him in an over-wrought, over-excited state this morning—­he had two hours’ sound sleep on the sofa after dinner.  If he has another bad night, now—­I am not afraid of the consequence.

June 25th, Monday.—­The day of the experiment!  It is five o’clock in the afternoon.  We have just arrived at the house.

The first and foremost question, is the question of Mr. Blake’s health.

So far as it is possible for me to judge, he promises (physically speaking) to be quite as susceptible to the action of the opium to-night as he was at this time last year.  He is, this afternoon, in a state of nervous sensitiveness which just stops short of nervous irritation.  He changes colour readily; his hand is not quite steady; and he starts at chance noises, and at unexpected appearances of persons and things.

These results have all been produced by deprivation of sleep, which is in its turn the nervous consequence of a sudden cessation in the habit of smoking, after that habit has been carried to an extreme.  Here are the same causes at work again, which operated last year; and here are, apparently, the same effects.  Will the parallel still hold good, when the final test has been tried?  The events of the night must decide.

While I write these lines, Mr. Blake is amusing himself at the billiard table in the inner hall, practising different strokes in the game, as he was accustomed to practise them when he was a guest in this house in June last.  I have brought my journal here, partly with a view to occupying the idle hours which I am sure to have on my hands between this and to-morrow morning; partly in the hope that something may happen which it may be worth my while to place on record at the time.

Have I omitted anything, thus far?  A glance at yesterday’s entry shows me that I have forgotten to note the arrival of the morning’s post.  Let me set this right before I close these leaves for the present, and join Mr. Blake.

I received a few lines then, yesterday, from Miss Verinder.  She has arranged to travel by the afternoon train, as I recommended.  Mrs. Merridew has insisted on accompanying her.  The note hints that the old lady’s generally excellent temper is a little ruffled, and requests all due indulgence for her, in consideration of her age and her habits.  I will endeavour, in my relations with Mrs. Merridew, to emulate the moderation which Betteredge displays in his relations with me.  He received us to-day, portentously arrayed in his best black suit, and his stiffest white cravat.  Whenever he looks my way, he remembers that I have not read Robinson Crusoe since I was a child, and he respectfully pities me.