He had a very vague notion of the penalties he would incur; if they put him in prison, so much the better--it might save him a little longer from drinking himself to death.
Like an honest man he had given up attempting to pull God round to his own position.

He did not now think for a moment that the act of love and mercy which possessed his soul was a pious one; his motive he believed to be solely his pity for Markham and his love for Ann, which, being natural, he supposed to be selfish, and, being selfish, he knew to be unholy.
It had all come to this, then--his piety, his reformation, his prayers, his thanksgiving, his faith.

His heart within him gave a sneering laugh.
He was terribly to blame, of course--he was a reprobate; but surely God was to blame too!.