Alcoholism so changes the mental life of any one that it results in an ego which has special external and internal characteristics.
And so, in order to appreciate fully this history of Gilbert Lothian—to note the difference between the man as he was known and as he really was—it must always be kept in mind under what influence he moves through life, and that his steps have strayed into a dreadful kingdom unknown and unrealised by happier men.
He had passed out of one great Palace of Drink.
Had he been as he supposed himself to be, he would have sought rest at once. He would have hurried joyously from temptation in this freedom from his chains.
Instead of that, the question he asked himself was, "What shall I do now?"
The glutton crams himself at certain stated periods. But when repletion comes he stops eating. The habit is rhythmic and periodically certain.
But the Drunkard—his far more sorrowful and lamentable brother—has not even this half-saving grace. In common with the inordinate smoker—whose harm is physical and not mental—the inebriate drinks as long as he is able to, until he is incapacitated. "Where shall I go now?"
If God does indeed give human souls to His good angels, as gardens to weed and tend, that thought must have brought tears of pity to the eyes of the august beings who were battling for Gilbert Lothian.
Their hour was not yet.
They were to see the temple of the Paraclete fall into greater ruin and disaster than ever before. The splendid spires and pinnacles, the whole serene beauty of soul and body which had made this Temple a high landmark when God first built it, were crumbling to decay.