Talk not to me, O my reverend friend! of Carwin. He has told thee
his tale, and thou exculpatest him from all direct concern in the
fate of Wieland. This scene of havoc was produced by an illusion
of the senses. Be it so; I care not from what source these
disasters have flowed; it suffices that they have swallowed up our
hopes and our existence.
What his agency began, his agency conducted to a close. He
intended, by the final effort of his power, to rescue me and to
banish his illusions from my brother. Such is his tale, concerning
the truth of which I care not. Henceforth I foster but one wish: I
ask only quick deliverance from life and all the ills that attend
it.
Go, wretch! torment me not with thy presence and thy prayers.--
Forgive thee? Will that avail thee when thy fateful hour shall
arrive? Be thou acquitted at thy own tribunal, and thou needest
not fear the verdict of others. If thy guilt be capable of blacker
hues, if hitherto thy conscience be without stain, thy crime will
be made more flagrant by thus violating my retreat. Take thyself
away from my sight if thou wouldst not behold my death!
Thou art gone! murmuring and reluctant! And now my repose is
coming--my work is done!
Fitzjames O'Brien
The Golden Ingot
I had just retired to rest, with my eyes almost blind with the
study of a new work on physiology by M.
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