A SIMPLE QUESTION Now this account of what Jacob Rigg had seen and heard threw me into a state of mind extremely unsatisfactory.

To be in eager search of some unknown person who had injured me inexpressibly, without any longing for revenge on my part, but simply with a view to justice--this was a very different thing from feeling that an unknown person was in quest of me, with the horrible purpose of destroying me to insure his own wicked safety.
At first I almost thought that he was welcome to do this; that such a life as mine (if looked at from an outer point of view) was better to be died than lived out.

Also that there was nobody left to get any good out of all that I could do; and even if I ever should succeed, truth would come out of her tomb too late.

And this began to make me cry, which I had long given over doing, with no one to feel for the heart of it.
But a thing of this kind could not long endure; and as soon as the sun of the morrow arose (or at least as soon as I was fit to see him), my view of the world was quite different.

Here was the merry brook, playing with the morning, spread around with ample depth and rich retreat of meadows, and often, after maze of leisure, hastening with a tinkle into shadowy delight of trees.