‘I did not speak for a moment. The two thoughts were fighting together in my mind. I went up to the table, and took from it the bottle of morphia and the little needle for injecting it, and I went up to him. ‘The last thing the doctors had said was that he was to have morphia in moderate quantities. I knew exactly how much. So long as the paroxysms of violent pain lasted it was to be administered. I went up to him, as I tell you. I suppose there must have been some change in my look or on my face, for he suddenly said, in a voice of suspicion and fear: ‘“What have you got there? What do you want? Why do you look at me like that?” ‘“You know what this is,” said I; “it is the morphia which they have been giving you, to take away your pain and make you sleep. You have behaved in such a manner to Nurse Agnes that--you heard what she said--she has gone away, and does not intend to enter your room again. You have treated your servant Morrison so that he is in much the same frame of mind. I do not know whether he will come, even if I were to go to him and beg him to do so. You have, as usual, left it all to me, because no one else will come near you. Do you think that I have a spirit more slavish and more contemptible than that of these servants? I have just told you that I loathe you and wish you were dead. By the order of your doctors, and especially of this great authority from London, you are to have an injection of this stuff in your arm every night at bedtime, and as much oftener as may be necessary. You think I shall endure everything, I see. You think I shall only talk about my unhappiness--never rebel against it. You are forced to honour me and trust me in your heart, you horrible coward! while you abuse me and tell shameful lies of me with your lips. Do you think I shall bear it for ever? What if I choose to put an end to it now? You could not prevent my doing so. You are weak and helpless and paralyzed. I am strong and young and able to move where I will and do all I wish to, physically. ‘“I can do just what I like with you as you lie there. I can fill this syringe with the quantity of morphia prescribed by the doctor, and so secure you some hours of rest and forgetfulness of your pain, or I can put into it three times as much as the doctor ordered, and so put you into a sleep from which you will never awaken. Do you understand? Now, this instant, I can do it. Reflect well and speak honestly, if you can, for once in your life. Do you think it would be very strange if I decided to give you too much? Do you really think I am incapable of it? Do you think also that I am not quite clever enough to escape any disagreeable consequences of doing it? Bah! speak the truth. Tell me, which do you think would be my best plan--from my point of view, not from yours?”