Oh, was there ever so unhappy a creature as I?
False name, false friend, in disgrace, in hiding! Curse everybody! Go! go! Mr.Denzil, and leave me to die here like a rat in its hole!" "You are ill!" said Lucian, amazed by the man's fury.

"Shall I send a doctor to see you ?" "Send no one," cried Berwin, commanding himself by a visible effort.
"Only go away and leave me to myself.

'Thou can'st not minister to a mind diseased.' Go! go!" "Good-night, then," said Denzil, seeing that nothing could be done.

"I hope you will be better in the morning." Berwin shook his head, and with a silent tongue, which contrasted strangely with his late outcry, ushered Denzil out of the house.
As the heavy door closed behind him Lucian descended the steps and looked thoughtfully at the grim mansion, which was tenanted by so mysterious a person.

He could make nothing of Berwin--as he chose to call himself--he could see no meaning in his wild words and mad behaviour; but as he walked briskly back to his lodgings he came to the conclusion that the man was nothing worse than a tragic drunkard, haunted by terrors engendered by over-indulgence in stimulants.