“Yes; I can’t help it,” he said. “Besides, I am much better, am I not? I must break myself of it by degrees, you know.”
Outside the gale yelled defiance; here inside there was tense silence, but it seemed to Maud as if some conflict mightier than that of the elements was going on.
“Ah, do let me have it just this once!” cried Thurso. “I’ve been without it for a week, and I swear to you by all I hold sacred——”
“Yes, by laudanum, that it shall be a fort-night before I take it again. And don’t send me to sleep this time. I—I think I should die if I didn’t have it.”
“Let’s have a look at the bottle,” said Cochrane.
A look of futile, childish cunning came into Thurso’s face.
“Oh, I think not,” he said. “You—you might forget to give it me back; one always may forget things. Look here, I—I’m going to take it. That’s all about it. I’m awfully grateful to you for all you have done, and to-morrow I will beg your forgiveness, and ask you to go on curing me. But this once you sha’n’t stop me. Besides, there’s no power either for evil or good in drugs.”
“That is blasphemous on your lips,” said Cochrane quickly. “I beg your pardon; I shouldn’t have said that.”
For that moment the light of anger had sprung into his eyes, but it only dulled them, and he stood there in silence a space, while they brightened again with that brilliant serenity and confidence which had been there before. Then he looked at Maud, smiled encouragement to her, and spoke.