almost out of hearing. His hands fall to his sides.
Once again his head sinks to its old place upon his breast. Sir
Christopher, believing him to be again under the influence of drink,
opens his lips with the evident intention of ordering him from his
presence, when Sir Mark interposes.

"He has come to say something. Let him say it," he says, tapping Sir
Christopher's arm persuasively.

"Ay, let me," says Slyme, in a low tone, yet always with the remnant of
a wasted passion in it. "It has lain heavy on my heart for years. I
shall fling it from me now, if the effort to do it kills me."

Turning his bleared eyes right and left, he searches every face slowly
until he comes to Fabian. Here his examination comes to an end.
Fastening his eyes on Fabian, he lets them rest there, and never again
removes them during the entire interview. He almost seems to forget, or
to be unaware, that there is any other soul in the room, save the man at
whom he is gazing so steadfastly. It is to him alone he addresses
himself.

"I call you to witness," he says, now striking himself upon his breast,
"that whatever I have done has not gone unpunished. If my crime has been
vile, my sufferings have been terrible. I have endured torments. I want
no sympathy--none. I expect only detestation and revenge, but yet I
would have you remember that there was a time when I was a man, not the
soddened, brutish, contemptible _thing_ I have become. I would ask you
to call to mind all you have ever heard about remorse; its stings, its
agony, its despair, and I would have you know that I have felt it all;
yea, more, a thousand times more!"

All this time he has had his hand pressed against his chest in a rigid
fashion. His lips have grown livid, his face pale as any corpse.

"This is mere raving," exclaims Sir Christopher, excitedly; but again
Gore restrains him as he would have gone forward to order Slyme to
retire.

"To-day," goes on Slyme, always with his heavy eyes on Fabian, "I heard
you speak in my defence--_mine_! Sir, if you could only know how those
words of yours burned into my heart, how they have burned since, how
they are burning _now_," smiting himself, "you would be half avenged. I
listened to you till my brain could bear no more. You spoke kindly of
_me_, you had pity on my old age--upon _mine_, who had no pity on your
youth, who ruthlessly ruined your life, who--"

"Man, if you have anything to confess--to explain--_say it_!" breaks i