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1"Afraid? No!" he replied. "I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard
2constitution and temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably shall, remain above
3ground till there is scarcely a black hair on my head. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to remind
4myself to breathe--almost to remind my heart to beat! And it is like bending back a stiff spring: it is by compulsion
5that I do the slightest act not prompted by one thought; and by compulsion that I notice anything alive or dead, which
6is not associated with one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are yearning to attain
7it. They have yearned towards it so long, and so unwaveringly, that I'm convinced it will be reached--and soon--because
8it has devoured my existence: I am swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfilment. My confessions have not relieved
9me; but they may account for some otherwise unaccountable phases of humour which I show. O God! It is a long fight; I
10wish it were over!" He began to pace the room, muttering terrible things to himself, till I was inclined to believe, as
11he said Joseph did, that conscience had turned his heart to an earthly hell. I wondered greatly how it would end. Though
12he seldom before had revealed this state of mind, even by looks, it was his habitual mood, I had no doubt: he asserted
13it himself; but not a soul, from his general bearing, would have conjectured the fact. You did not when you saw him, Mr.
14Lockwood: and at the period of which I speak, he was just the same as then; only fonder of continued solitude, and
15perhaps still more laconic in company.
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