At first I had been in some
degree calm and collected, but that too was a desperate effort; and when
it gave way, a kind of instant insanity became its successor.
I had now every thing to fear. And yet what was my fault? It proceeded
from none of those errors which are justly held up to the aversion of
mankind; my object had been neither wealth, nor the means of indulgence,
nor the usurpation of power. No spark of malignity had harboured in my
soul. I had always reverenced the sublime mind of Mr. Falkland; I
reverenced it still. My offence had merely been a mistaken thirst of
knowledge. Such however it was, as to admit neither of forgiveness nor
remission. This epoch was the crisis of my fate, dividing what may be
called the offensive part from the defensive, which has been the sole
business of my remaining years. Alas! my offence was short, not
aggravated by any sinister intention: but the reprisals I was to suffer
are long, and can terminate only with my life!
In the state in which I found myself, when the recollection of what I
had done flowed back upon my mind, I was incapable of any resolution.
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