Pagina 147 de 483

Now all was blasted; instead of that serenity of conscience which

allowed me to look back upon the past with self-satisfaction, and

from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by

remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell

of intense tortures such as no language can describe.

This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had perhaps never

entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I

shunned the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was

torture to me; solitude was my only consolation-deep, dark,

deathlike solitude.