The events of all that day were to him, afterwards, no more than a half-forgotten dream. He was conscious of having felt weary, tired, worn out. He was conscious of being in a kind of vicarious way, on his own behalf, present at a gloomy ceremonial. He was conscious that sadness was the leading characteristic of that ceremonial, and he was conscious of little else. When all was over he remembered getting back to the tower, clambering up with difficulty, mounting into the loft which had been his sleeping room, taking off his clothes (the first time for days), and lying down in an unmade bed. He remembered the sense of peace and quiet which had come over him in that bed, and the gradual approach of sleep, until at last all was blank. And then he remembered nothing until he saw the early light of the next day. He lay a long time looking at the light as it slowly descended on the wall. His mind became a sluggish whirlpool of memory. He could now see clearly all the events which had marked recent years. It may be said his life had not begun until he had met Dora Harrington in London; and from that point downward, to the hurry and whirl and abysm of to-day, he saw everything clearly, sharply. "I meant to be faithful to her," he thought. "I swore it, and I meant it, my dear, dead Dora. What first made me miss a letter to you? Let me see. Ah, yes! I remember. I was to have written from Glengowra on Saturday, and on Friday Eugene O'Donnell asked me to go for a long walk with him next day. We went inland, towards the mountains, and in the mountains we lost ourselves and did not get home until midnight, when it was too late to keep my promise to you, my darling. "That was the first letter I ever missed. Ah, how many have I missed since? "Then what happened? She who is now O'Donnell's wife came between me and Dora. Her beauty carried me away. I was infatuated, fascinated, mad, and I forgot my dear girl for an empty dream; an idle, empty dream that no sane man would have heeded for a moment. Then came Eugene; and she who could not love me could love him, and I felt that I had lost both. This made me worse. I lost all command of reason, and tried to kill him. "Then came that time at Glengowra when we were both lying hurt, and the old man, her grandfather, came and induced me to take an interest in that phantom treasure; and all at once it occurred to me that if this treasure were found, I could be of the greatest service to the O'Donnells, whom I had so deeply injured.