Presently he began to speak again.
Every sentence was an accusation, and every accusation a truth. Every
clause was freighted with sarcasm and derision, every slow-dropping word
burned like vitriol. The dwarf reminded me of times when I had flown at
my children in anger and punished them for faults which a little inquiry
would have taught me that others, and not they, had committed.
He reminded me of how I had disloyally allowed old friends to be traduced
in my hearing, and been too craven to utter a word in their defense.
He reminded me of many dishonest things which I had done; of many which I
had procured to be done by children and other irresponsible persons; of
some which I had planned, thought upon, and longed to do, and been kept
from the performance by fear of consequences only. With exquisite
cruelty he recalled to my mind, item by item, wrongs and unkindnesses I
had inflicted and humiliations I had put upon friends since dead, "who
died thinking of those injuries, maybe, and grieving over them," he
added, by way of poison to the stab.
"For instance," said he, "take the case of your younger brother, when you
two were boys together, many a long year ago. He always lovingly trusted
in you with a fidelity that your manifold treacheries were not able to
shake. He followed you about like a dog, content to suffer wrong and
abuse if he might only be with you; patient under these injuries so long
as it was your hand that inflicted them.
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