He seemed to notice not the entrance or exit of Carwin. My gesture
and the murderous weapon appeared to have escaped his notice. His
silence was unbroken; his eye, fixed upon the clock for a time, was
now withdrawn; fury kindled in every feature; all that was human in
his face gave way to an expression supernatural and tremendous. I
felt my left arm within his grasp.
Even now I hesitated to strike. I shrunk from his assault, but in
vain.
Here let me desist. Why should I rescue this event from oblivion?
Why should I paint this detestable conflict? Why not terminate at
once this series of horrors?--Hurry to the verge of the precipice,
and cast myself forever beyond remembrance and beyond hope?
Still I live; with this load upon my breast; with this phantom to
pursue my steps; with adders lodged in my bosom, and stinging me to
madness; still I consent to live!
Yes! I will rise above the sphere of mortal passions; I will spurn
at the cowardly remorse that bids me seek impunity in silence, or
comfort in forgetfulness. My nerves shall be new-strung to the
task. Have I not resolved? I will die.
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