“What I think I ought to do, my lord, I do without bargaining. I am not sorry I threw you from your horse, and to say so would be to lie.”
“Of course everybody thinks himself in the right!” said his lordship with a small sneer.
“It does not follow that no one is ever in the right!” returned Donal. “Does your lordship think you were in the right—either towards me or the poor animal who could not obey you because he was in torture?”
“I don’t say I do.”
“Then everybody does not think himself in the right! I take your lordship’s admission as an apology.”
“By no means: when I make an apology, I will do it; I will not sneak out of it.”
He was evidently at strife with himself: he knew he was wrong, but could not yet bring himself to say so. It is one of the poorest of human weaknesses that a man should be ashamed of saying he has done wrong, instead of so ashamed of having done wrong that he cannot rest till he has said so; for the shame cleaves fast until the confession removes it.
Donal Grant, by George MacDonald
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