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II
WhatafalsewretchIshouldhavebeen!HowIshouldhaveloathedmyselfto-dayhadIyieldedtothetemptationofthatmoment!But,thankGod,Iwasstrongenoughtospringupandhurryfromtheroom.Iwasrude,Ifear,butIcouldnot,no,ICOULDnot,trustmyselfanothermoment.I,agentleman,amanofhonor,engagedtooneofthesweetestgirlsinEngland—andyetinamomentofreasonlesspassionInearlyprofessedloveforthiswomanwhomIhardlyknow.Sheisfarolderthanmyselfandacripple.Itismonstrous,odious;andyettheimpulsewassostrongthat,hadIstayedanotherminuteinherpresence,Ishouldhavecommittedmyself.Whatwasit?Ihavetoteachotherstheworkingsofourorganism,andwhatdoIknowofitmyself?Wasitthesuddenupcroppingofsomelowerstratuminmynature—abrutalprimitiveinstinctsuddenlyassertingitself?Icouldalmostbelievethetalesofobsessionbyevilspirits,soovermasteringwasthefeeling.Well,theincidentplacesmeinamostunfortunateposition.Ontheonehand,Iamveryloathtoabandonaseriesofexperimentswhichhavealreadygonesofar,andwhichpromisesuchbrilliantresults.Ontheother,ifthisunhappywomanhasconceivedapassionforme——ButsurelyevennowImusthavemadesomehideousmistake.She,withherageandherdeformity!Itisimpossible.AndthensheknewaboutAgatha.SheunderstoodhowIwasplaced.Sheonlysmiledoutofamusement,perhaps,wheninmydazedstateIseizedherhand.Itwasmyhalf-mesmerizedbrainwhichgaveitameaning,andsprangwithsuchbestialswiftnesstomeetit.
