He had stood upright in his dungeon, within a pace or two of the door, ever since he had been left alone, without moving a single step. The darkness around him, like that of Egypt, could almost be felt; but he was insensible to it, and could only think, at that moment, of his folly, his imprudence, and his guilt. It may seem strange, on a superficial view, that a man who had passed his life in action, and had undergone all manner of vicissitudes and perils, should be reduced by the first touch of calamity to such utter prostration. That a sudden blow to an even and prosperous life should fall with severity, and be met by dejection, is no more than one might expect; but if it unman him who has been adversity’s companion, and, in his progress onward, walked hand in hand with all the accidents of war, it excites our surprise, and scarcely seems reasonable, or possible. But, however this may be borne out by ordinary cases, it is no less true, in the particular instance under consideration, that Hildebrand did not meet the passing calamity with any degree of fortitude. On the contrary, indeed, it found him totally unmanned,--his spirit cowed, his mind foundering, and his once brave heart, that a sense of rectitude would have nerved against the heaviest tribulation, burthened and weighed down by an overwhelming remorse. It is often at the eleventh hour, when it is too late to make reparation, that a man becomes alive to the full effect of a past and irretrievable excess. Even then, however, if heartily resolved on amendment, it is possible to render the consequences of his trespass less grievous and severe. A good intention involves some of the benignant influence of a good act; and though we should be unable to carry it into effect, the conviction that it had received our best support, and that its failure was not owing to any lack of effort, but to causes beyond our reach, will afford us a savour of that satisfaction and cheerfulness that attend success. When we conceive a sincere regret for wrong we have inflicted on others, the heart is beginning to expand, and, if we may use such a phrase, to develop its resources; and though we may writhe under the first and earlier visitings of self-accusation, and feel its continuance to be torture, it will gradually call up in the heart better and softer feelings, and, in our compassion for those we have injured, lend a comfort and strength to ourselves. Thus did Hildebrand ultimately attain a certain degree of fortitude and composure. As the reproaches of his conscience became more familiar, and the terrors of his position, from his surveying them over and over again, lost their air of novelty, his manliness seemed to revive, and, though he was still unutterably miserable, his wretchedness was not without dignity, and his remorse was no longer despair.