The alarm of the man was so genuine that Dan soothed him with soft words, as one would soothe a frightened child. And, indeed, Merle was little else, for the pernicious drug had effectually destroyed his manhood, and converted him into a nervous, irresponsible being. "Don't be afraid, Merle," said Dan, quietly; "no one shall hurt you. I can protect you from Tim; only tell me all!" "I cannot tell you about Tim, for I know hardly anything of him. But I can tell you my own story." "Very good; do so! Tim has promised to tell me his later on. Meanwhile, let me hear yours. You say you knew Miss Linisfarne?" "Yes, twenty-three years ago, it may be more. I have quite lost count of time." "I don't wonder at that," said Dan, gravely. "I--I only use it to soothe my pain," said Merle, hurriedly. "It makes me dream, and forget the past. If you only knew how I have been tortured--how I am tortured by memory--how burdensome my life is to me, you would not grudge me the drug which enables me to bear my accursed existence." "Why are you tortured by memory? Have you committed a crime?" "No! Do I look like a criminal! My sole crime is in having loved this woman too well. My name is not Merle--what it is does not matter. Three and twenty years ago I was a man, not a creature like I am now; but a man with a career before me. I met with Laura Linisfarne and loved her. She said she loved me, and then we were engaged. I lived in a fool's paradise for some months, and then found out her treachery, her wickedness. She ruined my life; she made me an outcast and a bye-word. I followed her here--to the exile to which her sin had condemned her. For years I have not seen her, but watched over her agony. For every pang I have felt, she has likewise suffered, for she has no opium to dull the stings of memory. If she says she loves you, she lies. She is a viper, a devil, a fiend! Were I strong enough, I would kill her! I was a man once--now look at me!" He sprang to his feet and stretched out his arms. A look of fury distorted his face, and he shook like a reed. "Look at me!" he cried. "This is he that was once Richard Mallard!" "Ah! Mallard--not Merle." "Oh, what have I said--what have I said?" cried Merle, with a sudden revulsion of feeling. "I did not mean to tell you my name, I--I----" "Hush, hush, no harm is done." "You know my secret; I shall tell you no more. Let me go--let me go. If you would know more, ask Tim. He can tell you why I came here--how bitterly I have suffered at the hands of that woman. And now she would marry you. Avoid her--avoid her, or she will ruin you as she has done me!" "She will not marry me. I don't love her," said Dan, slowly. "I am in love with your daughter Meg; I want to marry her." Merle looked at him with a dazed expression, then tossed up his arms, and, with a sudden access of strength, ran away up the path, laughing hysterically.