William Wilson

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​⁠What say of it? what say of CONSCIENCE grim, That spectre in my path?—Chamberlayne’s Pharronida.

Let me call myself, for the present, William Wilson. The fair page now lying before me need not be sullied with my real appellation. This has been already too much an object for the scorn—for the horror—for the detestation of my race. To the uttermost regions of the globe have not the indignant winds br