'Twas an evil day I ever saw his face; and 'twould be better for me to have a cast for my life at any rate, and that I'm nigh-hand resolved on; only you see my heart misgives me--and that's how it is.

I can't quite make up my mind.' For a little while Mervyn stood in an agony of irresolution.

I'm sure I cannot understand all he felt, having never been, thank Heaven! in a like situation.

I only know how much depended on it, and I don't wonder that for some seconds he thought of arresting that lank, pale, sinister figure by the fire, and denouncing him as, by his own confession, an accessory to the murder of Beauclerc.

The thought that he would slip through his fingers, and the clue to vindication, fortune, and happiness, be for ever lost, was altogether so dreadful that we must excuse his forgetting for a moment his promise, and dismissing patience, and even policy, from his thoughts.
But 'twas a transitory temptation only, and common sense seconded honour.