If a devil has deceived me, he
came in the habit of an angel. If I erred, it was not my judgment
that deceived me, but my senses. In thy sight, Being of beings! I
am still pure. Still will I look for my reward in thy justice!"
Did my ears truly report these sounds? If I did not err, my
brother was restored to just perceptions. He knew himself to have
been betrayed to the murder of his wife and children, to have been
the victim of infernal artifice; yet he found consolation in the
rectitude of his motives. He was not devoid of sorrow, for this
was written on his countenance; but his soul was tranquil and
sublime.
Perhaps this was merely a transition of his former madness into a
new shape. Perhaps he had not yet awakened to the memory of the
horrors which he had perpetrated. Infatuated wretch that I was!
To set myself up as a model by which to judge of my heroic brother!
My reason taught me that his conclusions were right; but, conscious
of the impotence of reason over my own conduct, conscious of my
cowardly rashness and my criminal despair, I doubted whether anyone
could be steadfast and wise.
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