I am filled with presentiments which make this wicked life of mine
one long terror to me. It doesn't matter, just now, what they are.
Enough that they absolutely govern me--they drive me over land
and sea at their own horrible will; they are in me, and torturing me,
at this moment! Why don't I resist them? Ha! but I do resist them.
I am trying (with the help of the good punch) to resist them now.
At intervals I cultivate the difficult virtue of common sense.
Sometimes, sound sense makes a hopeful woman of me. At one time,
I had the hope that what seemed reality to me was only mad delusion,
after all--I even asked the question of an English doctor!
At other times, other sensible doubts of myself beset me.
Never mind dwelling on them now--it always ends in the old terrors
and superstitions taking possession of me again. In a week's time,
I shall know whether Destiny does indeed decide my future for me,
or whether I decide it for myself. In the last case, my resolution
is to absorb this self-tormenting fancy of mine in the occupation
that I have told you of already. Do you understand me a little
better now? And, our business being settled, dear Mr.
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