His fear was so great as to make him tremble. He did not know what would happen next, or how soon the worst would come. And horror hath overwhelmed me. He was as one enveloped in a darkness that might be felt. He was unmanned, confounded, brought into a hideous state of suspense and mortal apprehension.
None are such real enemies as false friends.
The slanders of an avowed antagonist are seldom so mean and dastardly as those of a traitor, and the absence of the elements of ingratitude and treachery renders them less hard to bear. But it was thou. He sees him. The poetic fury is on him, he sees the traitor as though he stood before him in flesh and blood. He singles him out, he points his finger at him, he challenges him to his face.