I had openly provoked Grey because the hostility
of the young gentry had become an intolerable nuisance in my daily
life. So, with such pedestrian reasons in my mind, I could have none of
the heady enthusiasm of passion. I wanted him and his kind cleared out
of my way, like a noisome insect, but I had no flaming hatred of him to
give me heart.
The consequence was that I became a prey to dismal fear. That bravery
which knows no ebb was never mine. Indeed, I am by nature timorous, for
my fancy is quick, and I see with horrid clearness the incidents of a
peril. Only a shamefaced conscience holds me true, so that, though I
have often done temerarious deeds, it has always been because I feared
shame more than the risk, and my knees have ever been knocking together
and my lips dry with fright. I tried to think soberly over the future,
but could get no conclusion save that I would not do murder. My
conscience was pretty bad about the whole business. I was engaged in
the kind of silly conflict which I had been bred to abhor; I had none
of the common gentleman's notions about honour; and I knew that if by
any miracle I slew Grey I should be guilty in my own eyes of murder. I
would not risk the guilt. If God had determined that I should perish
before my time, then perish I must.
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