Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

;WOTTON KEINFKED 139influence has pursued me only tomy hurt, and stillhangs hke a baleful shadow over my whole life. Oh,my friend ! This man, this demon ! Why did heever behold me? Why must the black, wastingwhu'lwind of his life snatch him into its com'se?But I will be calm.'Edmund Walter, the first time I saw him, thoughtright to treat me with a distinction which could notbut be visible to everyone.It was a rather numerousassembly: Walter was among the cynosures of thenight, and perhaps the poor bashful girl was somewhatenvied such attention. In my own mind, Godknows, it caused little joy : on the contrary, this manwith all his pomp and plausibility of aspect waspositively distressing to me, or if I had for themoment some touch of female vanity in his flatteries,I received them but asfairy-money and with a halfcriminalfeelmg, for dread and aversion, as to a wickedsoul, were my impressions of him from the first.Myimpressions, however, it appeared, were not to regulateour intercourse ; nay, perhaps this indifference,this repulsion, accustomed as he was to prevail overall hearts, rather piqued him into new assiduity.Hefollowed me, at least— followed me from that hourwith continual civilities, the more questionable asthey could not be rejected, for so dexterously did hego to work that his conduct expressed at once everythingand nothing, wavered likea changing colourseen on this side, all softness and beguilement ; on