re a fool, a prig, and
a baby. Besides, the spirit is all burnt out by this time, evaporated,
flown thence. Come--I'll set you the example. Drink first and preach
afterwards."

And with the peculiar gloating eye, the expressively working, watering
mouth that the drunkard sometimes shows, the Englishman led off. It
was a long, hot drink, but he threw his head back and never paused till
he had drained the last drop, and once again tipped the glass towards
his throat. Ringfield, alarmed, fascinated, deeply brooding, watched
the proceeding in silence, his nature so changed that there was no
impulse to seize the offending glass, dash it on the ground or pour the
contents on the floor, watched ardently, hungrily, for the sequel.
Would Crabbe remain as he had been after the enlivening draught, or
would he by rapid and violent stages decline to the low being of former
days? While Ringfield thus watched the guide the latter stared back,
broadly smiling.

"Still shaking!" he cried; "still 'chilled to the bone' and shivering?
You are such an impossible fellow--you will not give my remedy a
chance. Perhaps whisky doesn't suit you. I know--it was gin you
wanted. 'The gin within the juniper began to make him merry.' Lots of
people don't know that's Tennyson. Eh, Ringfield? Afraid? Afraid of
imperilling your immortal soul? Nuisance--a soul. Great nuisance.
Great mistake. Well--are you or are you not going to drink this other
glass? I can't see good stuff wasted. I'm astonished at you.
I'm--'stonished."

He leant forward and bent his elbows on the table; the papers fluttered
in all directions, but he had forgotten about them. His gaze--wide,
blue and choleric--was alternately bent on Ringfield and on the tumbler.

The minister went pale, his heart beat spasmodically and his fingers
curled and tingled. No power, no wish to pray was left in him, no
sense of responsibility; he was too far gone in jealous vindictiveness
to be his own judge or critic, and he stared at the guide, saying: "If
you get drunk it is your own fault. You'll be doing it yourself. I
have nothing to do with it, nothing. I will not touch the stuff, you
shall not make me."

Yet he did not attempt to remove the glass and Crabbe sniffed at the
tempting fumes. His right hand embraced them, his hair fell over his
forehead, his eyes and mouth worked strangely, and in a twinkling what
the other had foreseen happened. With an unsteady, leering flo