me what I have already told you, at the cost of a pang of horror which this further allusion to the subject only serves to renew.
Never did the swift stroke of paralysis produce a more sudden or more terrible result. I fell prone upon the floor, while my heart gave one throb, so agonizing that, for the instant before I lost all consciousness, I thought that the burden of life was lifted from me forever; nor had this impression entirely faded from my mind when I revived. I let my eyes roam vaguely about the room, and over my
own prostrate form, before I slowly realized that I still retained the unhappy privilege of living.
Unquestionably, had I yielded only to the natural impulse which prompts one to escape from suffering, nothing, in that moment of horror and despair, could have seemed so sweet to me as death. Religion itself could not confront me with the prospect of any torments beyond the grave more intolerable than the cruel throes by which I was already convulsed. And yet, by one of Love's own miracles, I was not long in regaining fortitude enough to offer up my heartfelt thanks to Heaven for having restored me to consciousness and reason. My death
