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The Vicar of Wakefield
The Vicar of Wakefield

of his fancied security. Do you know this, Sir, this pocket-book?’—‘Yes, Sir,’ returned he, with a face of impenetrable assurance, ‘that pocket-book is mine, and I am glad you have found it.’—‘And do you know,’ cried I, ‘this letter? Nay, never falter man; but look me full in the face: I say, do you know this letter?’—‘That letter,’ returned he, ‘yes, it was I that wrote that letter.’—‘And how could you,’ said I, ‘so basely, so ungratefully presume to write this letter?’—‘And how came you,’ replied he, with looks of unparallelled effrontery, ‘so basely to presume to break open this letter? Don’t you know, now, I could hang you all for this? All that I have to do, is to swear at the next justice’s, that you have been guilty of breaking open the lock of my pocket-book, and so hang you all up at his door.’ This piece of unexpected insolence raised me to such a pitch, that I could scare govern my passion. ‘Ungrateful wretch, begone, and no longer pollute my dwelling with thy baseness. Begone, and never let me see thee again: go from my doors, and the only punishment I wish thee is an allarmed conscience, which will be a sufficient tormentor!’ So saying, I threw him his pocket-book, which he took up with a smile, and shutting the clasps with the utmost composure, left us, quite astonished at the serenity of his assurance. My wife was particularly enraged that nothing could make him angry, or make him seem ashamed of his villainies. ‘My dear,’ cried I, willing to calm those passions that had been raised too high among us, ‘we are not to be surprised that bad men want shame; they only blush at being detected in doing good, but glory in their vices.

  

‘Guilt and shame, says the allegory, were at first companions, and in the beginning of their journey inseparably kept together.

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