"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal.
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