"I will pass over some months, during which little of importance happened. Mr. Soudin, always a weak man, and having now little to occupy his time, fell more and more into the habit of drinking. He had for years taken more than was good for him, but not in a way to cause remark, his head suffering less than his body. But now, being much alone, he frequently overstepped the line of orthodox sobriety--a line which society draws in this case, as in all others, where its own convenience is affected.
"Fortunately for Vera she had at last found a companion who was in every way worthy of her affection. Agnes Thomson was at this time about thirty, and had little physical beauty, though her eyes and expression redeemed her from plainness. She possessed one of those natures which seem created from birth to minister to others, and are never so happy as when occupied in relieving distress, or in making the lives of those around them brighter. When in the presence of such we are unconscious of effort, see no strain of renunciation; they minister to those around them, as the bird feeds its young--because they want to. Such persons, though often imposed on, are seldom appreciated at their true worth, on account of the high quality of their natures. I have even heard it said, 'Oh, there is no merit in such unselfishness--she cannot help it.' But what an unconscious tribute to the soul is this! And what has such a spirit passed through before it so perfectly reflects its Maker!
"It was chiefly owing to my action that this girl went to Somerville. She had broken down while looking after an orphanage in Manchester, and the doctor had said that it was absolutely imperative that she should give up all work for some time. She dreaded the idea of parting from the little children, and struggled as long as possible; but the body at last gave in, and I was then able, by indirect influence, to bring her and Vera together. As soon as Agnes came to live with the beautiful young girl, she loved her as she had loved her orphan children, and indeed as she would have loved any man, woman, or child, good or bad, fair or ugly. She saw that her companion was suffering, and had little difficulty in drawing from her the story of her life; and Agnes wept with her, feeling all the time as if she had been in the young girl's place. When she came to think over it afterwards, what she called her conscience reproved her for not having even remonstrated. How wrong it all was! And she felt that she ought to have given reproof. Fortunately she never acted down to her conscience, which being an illuminated reflection from the creed of lesser minds, would only have retarded her influence. She taught her lessons, without knowing it, by the example of her own life.
"Two months after she came, Mr. Soudin was taken dangerously ill, and as his body had of late exhausted all its power in trying to digest four times as much food as it required, and had also been drenched with alcohol, he sank rapidly from weakness, dying the common death of starvation through excess of nourishment which so often takes the form of either diabetes, gout, or dropsy. As the death of each man is felt through loss of sympathy, he was but little regretted, and even his daughter, after the shock, was unwillingly conscious of relief.
"Thus Vera was left alone with her companion, whose bright influence day by day made itself felt, and revealed to her the lesson which is so hard to learn, that happiness on earth comes but by reflection. Pour out joy on others, and it shall overwhelm you. Forget yourself in others, and the tormentor strives in vain to harm you. See good in all things, and hell cannot hold you.
"But it is time that I told you something of Vancome. I had made him a fairly liberal allowance on condition that he did not try to interfere with his wife's freedom. As soon as he returned to England and the conditions were explained to him, he consulted his solicitor with the hope of being able to get hold of Vera and her fortune, but his adviser gave him little prospect of success, and he decided, at any rate for a time, to accept the offer. He was the more willing to do this owing to his superstitious dread of some fiendish power which he believed me to possess. It is a curious fact that evil natures always regard an exhibition of force incomprehensible to them as some eccentric trick of the devil. The most superstitious men will be found among those who profess atheism. They scoff at the idea of God, while trembling at the shadow of Satan; and dread a dinner party of thirteen while denying the Last Supper.
"For a year Vancome followed much the same dissipated life as he had done previously to his marriage. He gambled, at first with caution, for he was no longer desperate, and for a time was successful, being thus enabled to indulge all his other extravagant tastes. But about the time of Mr. Soudin's death his luck turned, and he began to lose heavily. One night while playing piquet at the W---- Club he was caught cheating. He had been suspected for some time, and a trap was laid into which he fell. As there was no room for doubt he was expelled from the Club, and no longer dared to show himself in society. His future, all the future that he cared for, was ruined, while his title only assisted to advertise his shame. For days the papers increased their circulation at his expense, and the scandal in high life was placarded on every station and shouted through every town. His wife was commended for her forethought in having refused to live with him, while the more scurrilous papers exhausted their energy in raking up as many past scandals in his life as they could discover, feeling that there was little danger of an action for libel.
"It was during this outburst that I decided to see him. I had no longer any bitter feelings towards this man, and though while feeling certain that he would think at first I had come to gloat over his misery, I hoped to show that this was not the case, and that my desire was to help him. I found him sitting alone in his chambers; he had been drinking heavily for some time to drown his misery, and as I came in he looked up with dull glazed eyes which at first showed no sign of recognition. But suddenly they changed; his face became livid with anger.
"'Fiend!' he cried. 'It is your doing--and so you have come to see the end of your work! But you are mistaken--we will go down to hell together--you shall not escape me this time!'
"He took up a revolver which I had noticed lying on the table, and pointed it at me.