ringing in our ears, or rather in our memories, of the burthen
of some ordinary song, or some unimpressive snatches from an opera.
Nor will we be the less tormented if the song in itself be good, or
the opera air meritorious. In this manner, at last, I would perpetually
catch myself pondering upon my security, and repeating, in a low
undertone, the phrase, "I am safe."

One day, whilst sauntering along the streets, I arrested myself in the
act of murmuring, half aloud, these customary syllables. In a fit of
petulance, I remodelled them thus; "I am safe--I am safe--yes--if I be
not fool enough to make open confession!"

No sooner had I spoken these words, than I felt an icy chill creep to
my heart. I had had some experience in these fits of perversity, (whose
nature I have been at some trouble to explain), and I remembered well
that in no instance I had successfully resisted their attacks. And now
my own casual self-suggestion that I might possibly be fool enough to
confess the murder of which I had been guilty, confronted me, as if the
very ghost of him whom I had murdered--and beckoned me on to death.

At first, I made an effort to shake off this nightmare of the soul.
I walked vigorously--faster--still faster--at length I ran. I felt
a maddening desire to shriek aloud. Every succeeding wave of thought
overwhelmed me with new terror, for, alas! I well, too well understood
that to think, in my situation, was to be lost. I still quickened my
pace. I bounded like a madman through the crowded thoroughfares. At
length, the populace took the alarm, and pursued me. I felt then the
consummation of my fate. Could I have torn out my tongue, I would have
done it, but a rough voice resounded in my ears--a rougher grasp seized
me by the shoulder. I turned--I gasped for breath. For a moment I
experienced all the pangs of suffocation; I became blind, and deaf,
and giddy; and then some invisible fiend, I thought, struck me with his
broad palm upon the back. The long imprisoned secret burst forth from my
soul.

They say that I spoke with a distinct enunciation, but with marked
emphasis and passionate hurry, as if in dread of interruption before
concluding the brief, but pregnant sentences that consigned me to the
hangman and to hell.

Having related all that was necessary for the fullest judicial
conviction, I fell prostrate in a swoon.

But why shall I say more? To-day I wear these chains, and am here!
To-morrow I shall be fet