Although he promised to come over on the following day, he seemed very subdued as he bade us good night, though I thought he struggled to speak naturally. It was only when he parted with Edgecumbe, however, that he showed any signs of emotion.
'Good night,' he said, as he grasped his hand. 'I shan't pretend to thank you. Words fail, don't they? But I shall never forget you, never—never; and if ever I can pay you back——'
He stopped short, and seemed to be struggling to say more, but no words escaped him. A minute later he had left the house.
I had barely entered my room that night, when Edgecumbe knocked at the door which led from his apartment to mine. 'May I come in?' he asked.
I opened the door, and scarcely noticing me he staggered to an arm-chair, and threw himself into it.
'I want to tell you something,' he said.
'Well, what is it?'
But he did not speak. He sat staring into vacancy.
'Come, old man,' I said, after a lapse of many minutes, 'what is it?'
'If I weren't sure there was another life,' was his reply, 'I—I should go mad.'