So the night passed, and I paced the passages, the rooms, the stairs, in a frame of mind the memory of which even now, after a lapse of years, sends a shudder through me. For the time being I lost faith in human goodness. Purity and sweetness were delusions--they had no existence. Charity, virtue, kindliness, our holiest sentiments, the spiritual instinct which lifts our thoughts above sordid cares and rewards, all were mockeries, and he who believed in them was a fool. Nothing was real but corruption. Beneath the lying mask on the world's face lurked treachery and foul desire, and over this mass of impurity reigned the Spirit of Evil. At the end of the succeeding week I broke the vow I had made never to touch spirituous liquor. To my shame be it recorded. I had eaten scarcely anything the previous two days, and was suffering from terrible depression. It was while I was in this state, pacing the dining-room, up and down, up and down, with nerves so sensitively attuned that any sudden noise made me start, that my eyes fell upon a bottle of brandy which had just been uncorked, and inadvertently left upon the sideboard. It fascinated me. I turned from it, was drawn to it again, and for several minutes gazed fixedly at it. Here was rest, here was forgetfulness, here was at least a transient relief. An enticing devil lurked in that bottle, inviting me, tempting me, luring me on. I laid my hand upon it. My conscience smote me, but my moral strength was sapped. Character, reputation, happiness, all were lost. Let the last remnants of self-respect go with them. In all the wide world there was not one man or woman who cared what became of me, not one human being who entertained for me a spark of affection. Whether I died the death of a dog or a martyr would not affect the judgment which had been passed upon me. My epitaph was already written, and nothing could alter it. The fiend Insomnia held me in his grip. During the past week I had not had two consecutive hours' sleep. To save myself from going mad I must have a few hours' oblivion from the misery which encompassed me. I poured the liquor into a tumbler, and drank it neat. It burnt my throat, but almost immediately I was conscious of a riotous revulsion of spirits. Again and again I drank, forcing the liquor down my throat till the bottle was empty, when I must have fallen to the ground in a drunken stupor. I recall that it was broad daylight when I yielded to the temptation, and put the final touch to my sorrows by this act of self-degradation. CHAPTER XVI.