“I understood what he meant, and the shock of his including accusation, his ‘Thou art the man,’ sent a throb of pain to my heart.  That I had already seen my false position and changed front did not lessen the shock, for I was only the more sensitive to pain.

“‘Happily for you, Mr. Elliott,’ he went on. ’no such bitter fruit has been plucked by your hands as by mine, and I pray God that it may never be.  For a long time I have carried a heavy load here’—­he drew his hand against his breast—­’heavier than I have strength to bear.  Its weight is breaking me down.  It is no light thing, sir, to feel at times that you are a murderer.’

“He shivered, and there passed across his face a look of horror.  But it was gone in a moment, though an expression of suffering remained.

“‘My dear doctor.’  I interposed, ’you have permitted yourself to fall into a morbid state.  This is not well.  You are overworked and need change and relaxation.’

“‘Yes,’ he replied, a little mournfully ’I am overworked and morbid and all that, I know, and I must have change and relaxation or I shall die.  Ah, if I could get rid of this heavy weight!’ He laid his hand upon his breast again, and drew a deep inspiration.  ’But that is impossible.  I must tell you all about it, but place upon you at the same time an injunction of silence, except in the case of one man, Mr. Spencer Birtwell.  He is honorable and he should know, and I can trust him.

“’You remember, of course, the entertainment he gave last winter and some, of the unhappy effects that came of it, but you do not know all.  I was there and enjoyed the evening, and you were there, Mr. Elliott, and I am afraid led some into temptation through our freedom.  Forgive me for saying so, but the truth is best.

“’Wine was free as water—­good wine, tempting to the taste.  I meant to be very guarded, to take only a glass or two, for on the next day I had a delicate and dangerous operation to perform, and needed steady nerves.  But the wine was good, and my one or two glasses only made way for three or four.  The temptation of the hour were too much for my habitual self-restraint.  I took a glass of wine with you, Mr. Elliott, after I had already taken more than was prudent under the circumstances another with Mr. Birtwell, another with General Abercrombie—­alas for him! he fell that night so low that he has never risen again—­and another with some one else.  It was almost impossible to put a restraint upon yourself.  Invitation and solicitation met you at every turn.  The sphere of self-indulgence was so strong that it carried almost every one a little too far, and many into excess and debauch.  I was told afterward that at a late hour the scene in the supper-room was simply disgraceful.  Boys and men, and sadder still, young women, were more than half drunk, and behaved most unseemly.  I can believe this, for I have seen such things too often.