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my heart. I had had some experience in these fits of perversity, (whose
nature I have been at some trouble to explain), and I remembered well
that in no instance I had successfully resisted their attacks. And now
my own casual self-suggestion that I might possibly be fool enough to
confess the murder of which I had been guilty, confronted me, as if the
very ghost of him whom I had murdered--and beckoned me on to death.
At first, I made an effort to shake off this nightmare of the soul.
I walked vigorously--faster--still faster--at length I ran. I felt
a maddening desire to shriek aloud. Every succeeding wave of thought
overwhelmed me with new terror, for, alas! I well, too well understood
that to think, in my situation, was to be lost. I still quickened my
pace. I bounded like a madman through the crowded thoroughfares. At
length, the populace took the alarm, and pursued me. I felt then the
consummation of my fate. Could I have torn out my tongue, I would have
done it, but a rough voice resounded in my ears--a rougher grasp seized
me by the shoulder. I turned--I gasped for breath. For a moment I
experienced all the pangs of suffocation; I became blind, and deaf,
and giddy; and then some invisible fiend, I thought, struck me with his
broad palm upon the back. The long imprisoned secret burst forth from my
soul.
They say that I spoke with a distinct enunciation, but with marked
emphasis and passionate hurry, as if in dread of interruption before
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