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"It is the strangest problem of humanity,–one too for which the closest investigation can never quite account,—to trace the progress by which innocence becomes guilt, and how those who formerly trembled to think of crime are led on to commit that at which they once shuddered. The man the most steeped in wickedness must have had his innocent and his happy moments; a child, he must have played in the sunshine with spirits as light as the golden curls that toss on the wind. His little hands must have been clasped in prayer at his mother's knee; he must, during some moment of youth's generous warmth, have pitied human suffering, and wondered how man's blood could ever be shed by man; and if this holds good of man, how much more so of woman! But that it is one of those stern truths which experience forces us to know, we never could believe in murder as a feminine crime."****"We can trace the degradation of Constance step by step; we see how the timid has grown hardened—the resolute reckless—and the affectionate only passionate. Constant contact with coarser natures has seared the finer perceptions, and the sense of right and wrong is deadened by hardship, suffering and evil communion. The character so formed is worked upon by the most fearful passion which can agitate the human heart, that which is strong as death and cruel as the grave—the passion of jealousy.***Scott deprecates censure on him who
'died a gallant knight
With sword in hand for England's right;'
still more might we deprecate it for her who died in 'Holy Isle'. The morality of pity is deeper and truer than that of censure. The sweetest and best qualities of our nature may be turned to evil by the
