“I don’t know,” he replied, in a low tone; “I fear I’ll make you ashamed of me.  I didn’t mean to be so weak, but I’m all unstrung to-night.  I’m losing courage—­losing zest in life.  I seem to have everything, and my friends consider me one of the luckiest of men.  But all I have oppresses me and makes me more lonely.  When I was sharing your sorrows and poverty, I was tenfold happier than I am now.  I live in a place haunted by ghosts, and everything in life appears illusive.  I feel to-night as if I were losing you.  Your professional duties will take you here and there, where I cannot see you very often.”

“Roger, you trouble me greatly.  You are not well at all, and your extreme morbidness proves it.”

“I know it’s very unmanly to cloud your bright evening, but my depression has been growing so long and steadily that I can’t seem to control it any more.  There, Millie, the lady superintendent is looking for you.  Don’t worry.  You medical and scientific people know that it is nothing but a torpid liver.  Perhaps I may be ill enough to have a trained nurse.  You see I am playing a deep game,” and with an attempt at a hearty laugh he said good-night, and she was compelled to hasten away, but it was with a burdened, anxious mind.

A few moments later she entered on her duties in one of the surgical wards, performing them accurately from habit, but mechanically, for her thoughts were far absent.  It seemed to her that she was failing one who had never failed her, and her self-reproach and disquietude grew stronger every moment.  “After all he has been to me, can I leave him to an unhappy life?” was the definite question that now presented itself.  At last, in a respite from her tasks, she sat down and thought deeply.

Roger, having placed Mrs. Wheaton in a carriage, was about to follow on foot, when Mr. Wentworth claimed his attention for a time.  At last, after the majority of the guests had departed, he sallied forth and walked listlessly in the frosty air that once had made his step so quick and elastic.  He had not gone very far before he heard the sound of galloping horses, then the voices of women crying for help.  Turning back he saw a carriage coining toward him at furious speed.  A sudden recklessness was mingled with his impulse to save those in extreme peril, and he rushed from the sidewalk, sprang and caught with his whole weight the headgear of the horse nearest to him.  His impetuous onset combined with his weight checked the animal somewhat, and before the other horse could drag him very far, a policeman came to his aid, dealing a staggering blow behind the beast’s ear with his club, then catching the rein.

Roger’s right arm was so badly strained that it seemed to fail him, and before he could get out of the way, the rearing horse he was trying to hold struck him down and trampled upon him.  He was snatched out from under the iron-shod hoofs by the fast gathering crowd, but found himself unable to rise.