Worse than that, I have starved and stinted her to buy books.
Oh, the shame of it! The wickedness of it! It was my vice--the vice that
enslaved me just as if it had been drinking or gambling. I couldn't resist
the temptation--though every day I cried shame upon myself and swore to
overcome it. She never blamed me; never a word--nay, not a look--of a
reproach. I lived in idleness. I never tried to save her that daily toil at
the shop. Do you know that she worked in a shop?--She, with her knowledge
and her refinement leading such a life as that! Think that I have passed
the shop a thousand times, coming home with a book in my hands! I had the
heart to pass, and to think of her there! Oh! Oh!'
Some one was knocking at the door. I went to open, and saw the landlady,
her face set in astonishment, and her arms full of books.
'It's all right,' I whispered. 'Put them down on the floor there; don't
bring them in. An accident.'
Christopherson stood behind me; his look asked what he durst not speak. I
said it was nothing, and by degrees brought him into a calmer state.
Luckily, the doctor came before I went away, and he was able to report a
slight improvement. The patient had slept a little and seemed likely to
sleep again.
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