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Godolphin, Volume 6. by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
page 54 of 66 (81%)
dim, an unconfessed remorse has pursued me in the memory of Lucilla; yet,
why not have redeemed that fault to her by good to others? What is
penitence not put into action, but the great fallacy in morals? A sin to
one, if irremediable, can only be compensated by a virtue to some one
else. Yet was I to blame in my conduct to Lucilla? Why should conscience
so haunt me at that name? Did I not fly her? Was it not herself who
compelled our union? Did I not cherish, respect, honour, forbear with
her, more than I have since with my wedded Constance? Did I not resolve
to renounce Constance herself, when most loved, for Lucilla's sake alone?
Who prevented that sacrifice--who deserted me--who carved out her own
separate life?--Lucilla herself. No, so far, my sin is light. But ought
I not to have left all things to follow her, to discover her, to force
upon her an independence from want, or possibly from crime? Ah, there was
my sin, and the sin of my nature; the sin, too, of the children of the
world--passive sin. I could sacrifice my happiness, but not my indolence;
I was not ungenerous, I was inert. But is it too late? Can I not yet
search, discover her, and remove from my mind the anxious burthen which
her remembrance imposes on it? For, oh, one thought of remorse linked
with the being who has loved us, is more intolerable to the conscience
than the gravest crime!"

Muttering such thoughts, Godolphin strayed on until the deepening night
suddenly recalled his attention to the lateness of the hour. He turned to
the house and entered his own apartment. Several of the guests had
already come. Godolphin was yet dressing, when a servant knocked at the
door and presented him with a note.

"Lay it on the table," said he to the valet; "it is probably some excuse
about the ball."

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