I was intoxicated.

I was drunk.

I say it with shame; and on hearing Sir George's threat my half-frenzied imagination ran riot into the foreboding future.
All the candles, save one tottering wick, were dead in their sockets, and the room was filled with lowering phantom-like shadows from oaken floor to grimy vaulted roof beams.

Sir George, hardly conscious of what he did and said, all his evil passions quickened with drink, leaned his hands upon the table and glared across at me.

He seemed to be the incarnation of rage and ferocity, to so great a pitch had he wrought himself.