Had society then beaten him into submission?
Was he a coward?
Had he been bulldozed into recanting?
Or had the strain been too great for him, and had he meekly surrendered to the juggernaut of the established?
I called upon him in his beautiful home.

He was woefully changed.

He was thinner, and there were lines on his face which I had never seen before.
He was manifestly distressed by my coming.

He plucked nervously at his sleeve as we talked; and his eyes were restless, fluttering here, there, and everywhere, and refusing to meet mine.

His mind seemed preoccupied, and there were strange pauses in his conversation, abrupt changes of topic, and an inconsecutiveness that was bewildering.