in fact he vowed it was the dampest and the dullest old ruin under
the sun, and that he would sell it to-morrow if he could find a
lunatic to buy. His want of sentiment struck me as his one
deplorable trait. Yet even this displayed his characteristic merit
of frankness. Nor was it at all unpleasant to hear his merry,
boyish laughter ringing round hall and gallery, ere it died away
against a dozen closed doors.

And there were other elements of good cheer: a log fire blazing
heartily in the old dog-grate, casting a glow over the stone flags,
a reassuring flicker into the darkest corner: cold viands of the
very best: and the finest old Madeira that has ever passed my lips.

"Now, all my life I have been a "moderate drinker" in the most
literal sense of that slightly elastic term. But at the sad time
of which I am trying to write, I was almost an abstainer, from the
fear, the temptation - of seeking oblivion in strong waters. To
give way then was to go on giving way. I realized the danger, and
I took stern measures. Not stern enough, however; for what I did
not realize was my weak and nervous state, in which a glass would
have the same effect on me as three or four upon a healthy man.

Heaven knows how much or how little I took that evening! I can
swear it was the smaller half of either bottle - and the second we
never finished - but. the amount matters nothing. Even me it did
not make grossly tipsy. But it warmed my blood, it cheered my heart,
it excited my brain, and - it loosened my tongue. It set me talking
with a freedom of which I should have been incapable in my normal
moments, on a subject whereof I had never before spoken of my own
free will. And yet the will to - speak - to my present companion