Is there a thing in the world worthy of
infinite abhorrence? It is I.
What shall I say? I was menaced, as I thought, with death, and, to
elude this evil, my hand was ready to inflict death upon the
menacer. In visiting my house, I had made provision against the
machinations of Carwin. In a fold of my dress an open penknife was
concealed. This I now seized and drew forth. It lurked out of
view; but I now see that my state of mind would have rendered the
deed inevitable if my brother had lifted his hand. This instrument
of my preservation would have been plunged into his heart.
O insupportable remembrance! hide thee from my view for a time;
hide it from me that my heart was black enough to meditate the
stabbing of a brother! a brother thus supreme in misery; thus
towering in virtue!
He was probably unconscious of my design, but presently drew back.
This interval was sufficient to restore me to myself. The madness,
the iniquity, of that act which I had purposed rushed upon my
apprehension. For a moment I was breathless with agony. At the
next moment I recovered my strength, and threw the knife with
violence on the floor.
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