Had I committed murder, my conscience could scarce have afflicted me more severely.

I did not regain my self-esteem till I had somewhat repaired the injury I had done.

Long after that time Crompton was in prison, in great and overwhelming distress.

I impoverished myself to release him; I sustained him and his family till fortune rendered my assistance no longer necessary; and no triumphs were ever more sweet to me than the sacrifice I was forced to submit to, in order to restore him to prosperity.
It is natural to hope that this accident had at least the effect of curing me of my fault; but it requires philosophy in yourself, or your advisers, to render remorse of future avail.

How could I amend my fault, when I was not even aware of it?
Smarting under the effects, I investigated not the cause, and I attributed to irascibility and vindictiveness what had a deeper and more dangerous origin.
At college, in spite of all my advantages of birth, fortune, health, and intellectual acquirements, I had many things besides the one enemy of remorse to corrode my tranquillity of mind.