"When she is left a widow, and my children orphans," continued the patient, "remember that you have made them such!"
"Me! Why do you say that, Mr. Hobart?" The doctor looked startled.
"Because it is the truth. I was a well man, when you, as my medical adviser, recommended me to drink brandy as a protection against disease. I was in fear of the infection, and followed your prescription. From the moment I took the first draught my body lost its healthy equilibrium; and not only my body, but my mind. I was a reformed man, and the taste inflamed the old appetite. From that time until now I have not been really sober."
The doctor was distressed and confounded by this declaration. He had feared that such was the case; but now it was charged unequivocally.
"I am pained at all this," he replied, "In sinning I sinned ignorantly."
But, ere he could finish his reply, the sick man became suddenly worse, and sunk into a state of insensibility.
"If it be in human power to save his life," murmured the doctor—"I will save it."
Through the whole night he remained at the bed-side, giving, with his own hands, all the remedies, and applying every curative means within reach. But, when the day broke, there was little, if any change for the better. He then went home, but returned in a couple of hours.
"How is your husband?" he asked of the pale-faced wife as he entered. She did not reply, and they went up to the chamber together. A deep silence reigned in the room as they entered.
"Is he asleep?" whispered the doctor.