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"Oh, it is not thus-not thus," interrupted the being. "Yet such

must be the impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the

purport of my actions. Yet I seek not a fellow feeling in my

misery. No sympathy may I ever find. When I first sought it, it

was the love of virtue, the feelings of happiness and affection

with which my whole being overflowed, that I wished to be

participated. But now that virtue has become to me a shadow, and

that happiness and affection are turned into bitter and loathing

despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am content to

suffer alone while my sufferings shall endure; when I die, I am

well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my

memory. Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame,

and of enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who,

pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent

qualities which I was capable of unfolding. I was nourished with

high thoughts of honour and devotion.