in the guide's manner, a sort of
sickness stole upon him. Here, thrust into his hand, was the greatest
opportunity yet given to him to preserve a human soul and to save the
woman he loved, but he looked on, dazed, uncomfortable, half guilty.

"If this works you harm," he said, "it will be through me, through me.
I'd rather not, Crabbe; I'd rather not."

But the word of the guide prevailed, and in three minutes a couple of
hot strong glasses were on the table. Crabbe for his part was really
curious. Could it be that this man, his visitor, had never tasted
spirituous liquor? Wine, of course, he must have taken, being a
clergyman. This thought immediately attracted him, and with a sense of
its literary value he sought to question Ringfield as to the effect of
the Communion wine upon a teetotal community. By this time there was
no doubt the minister had suffered a severe chill and the temptation
became very strong to try the hot glass that stood in front of him.

Crabbe jeered.

"What do you suppose will happen to you if you taste it, even if you
drain it? What can one glass do? Nonsense. I've taken a whole bottle
of Glenlivet in an evening--then you might talk!"

His hand played with the glasses, and watching him, Ringfield felt all
the awful responsibility of his office. Once before he had shattered a
hateful bottle, once he had lifted up his voice in self-righteous
denunciation of the sin of drink and the black fruit thereof, but now
he appeared helpless, paralyzed.

At what moment the evil finally entered into him and conquered him does
not signify; horrible visions of Pauline and this man going away
together, laughing and chatting, embracing and caressing, swam before
his jaundiced eyes. To delay, to prevent the marriage had been his
dream for weeks, and now he saw one way to accomplish this wished-for
hindrance to their union. Should Crabbe be made drunk, should he yield
again after so long abstinence from liquor, who could say what the
consequences might prove? A shred only of common compunction animated
him as he said: "I tell you frankly I'm afraid of the stuff. And I'm
afraid for you."

Yet all this time he was watching the guide's expression.

Already the steaming fumes were working upon him; the familiar,
comforting, stimulating odour was there, his hand was clasping the
glass, in another moment he would drain it, then what would happen!

"Afraid! Afraid? Of one glass! Ringfield--you'