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I paused, even awed by the agitation he evinced; "Yes," he said at length,
rising and biting his lip, as he strove to curb his passion; "Such am I!
You do not know me, Verney; neither you, nor our audience of last night,
nor does universal England know aught of me. I stand here, it would seem,
an elected king; this hand is about to grasp a sceptre; these brows feel in
each nerve the coming diadem. I appear to have strength, power, victory;
standing as a dome-supporting column stands; and I am--a reed! I have
ambition, and that attains its aim; my nightly dreams are realized, my
waking hopes fulfilled; a kingdom awaits my acceptance, my enemies are
overthrown. But here," and he struck his heart with violence, "here is the
rebel, here the stumbling-block; this over-ruling heart, which I may drain
of its living blood; but, while one fluttering pulsation remains, I am its
slave."
He spoke with a broken voice, then bowed his head, and, hiding his face in
his hands, wept. I was still smarting from my own disappointment; yet this
scene oppressed me even to terror, nor could I interrupt his access of
passion. It subsided at length; and, throwing himself on the couch, he
remained silent and motionless, except that his changeful features shewed a
strong internal conflict. At last he rose, and said in his usual tone of
voice, "The time grows on us, Verney, I must away. Let me not forget my
chiefest errand here. Will you accompany me to Windsor to-morrow? You will
not be dishonoured by my society, and as this is probably the last service,
or disservice you can do me, will you grant my request?"
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