He had fulfilled, to the best of his ability, Carlyle's own injunctions, and he had faithfully portrayed as he knew him the man whom of all others he most revered.

He was bewildered, almost dazed, at what seemed to him the perverse and unscrupulous recklessness of his accusers.

Anonymous and abusive letters reached him daily; some even of his own friends looked coldly on him.

He was a sensitive man, and he felt it deeply.

He shrank from going out unless he knew exactly whom he was to meet.