“Indeed, sir,” says the doctor very mildly, “I consult equally the good of you both, and, in a spiritual sense, more especially yours; for you know you have injured this poor man.”
“So far on the contrary,” cries James, “that I have been his greatest benefactor. I scorn to upbraid him, but you force me to it. Nor have I ever done him the least injury.”
“Perhaps not,” said the doctor; “I will alter what I have said. But for this I apply to your honour—Have you not intended him an injury, the very intention of which cancels every obligation?”
“How, sir?” answered the colonel; “what do you mean?”
“My meaning,” replied the doctor, “is almost too tender to mention. Come, colonel, examine your own heart, and then answer me, on your honour, if you have not intended to do him the highest wrong which one man can do another?”
“I do not know what you mean by the question,” answered the colonel.
“D—n me, the question is very transparent!” cries Bath. “From any other man it would be an affront with the strongest emphasis, but from one of the doctor’s cloth it demands a categorical answer.”
“I am not a papist, sir,” answered Colonel James, “nor am I obliged to confess to my priest. But if you have anything to say speak openly, for I do not understand your meaning.”
“I have explained my meaning to you already,” said the doctor, “in a letter I wrote to you on the subject—a subject which I am sorry I should have any occasion to write upon to a Christian.”
“I do remember now,” cries the colonel, “that I received a very impertinent letter, something like a sermon, against adultery; but I did not expect to hear the author own it to my face.”