The Gentleman who Vanished by Fergus Hume — Read

There is no punishment that men can devise so terrible in its effects as remorse. Physical tortures cannot last longer than a certain period without wearing out the body, but remorse is a monster which feeds upon itself and, little by little, gains possession of the whole inner life, making outward things hateful to the sight. It was this feeling that Adrian experienced after he had surrendered his liberty to gain safety in the body of Dr. Roversmire. The memory of his crime was constantly with him, reminding him at every moment of the day that his soul was held in the bondage of an alien body, and that, even if Philip Trevanna recovered, he would be powerless to break the chain which fettered him. The deed, once done, could not be recalled, and, of his own free will, he had entered into a prison from which nothing short of a miracle could release him.

As the days went slowly by he strove mightily to adapt himself to the dreary, monotonous life which he was now leading. Roversmire had indeed been able to draw entertainment from his stores of knowledge, his vast experience, and his power of releasing his soul from his body whenever earthly things grew too irksome to him, but Adrian, having lived all his life in a frivolous world, had not a well-stored mind to draw upon, consequently being debarred by his strange position from his ordinary pleasures he did not know how to employ his time. Furthermore, the memory of his folly stung him sharply, and the forced inaction of the life of seclusion, to which he was now condemned, made his tortured soul writhe in its new dwelling-place with a hideous sense of impotence and weariness.