My nerves became
thoroughly unstrung, and I fell a prey to perpetual horror. I
hesitated to ride, or to walk, or to indulge in any exercise that
would carry me from home. In fact, I no longer dared trust myself
out of the immediate presence of those who were aware of my
proneness to catalepsy, lest, falling into one of my usual fits, I
should be buried before my real condition could be ascertained. I
doubted the care, the fidelity of my dearest friends. I dreaded
that, in some trance of more than customary duration, they might be
prevailed upon to regard me as irrecoverable. I even went so far as to
fear that, as I occasioned much trouble, they might be glad to
consider any very protracted attack as sufficient excuse for getting
rid of me altogether. It was in vain they endeavored to reassure me by
the most solemn promises. I exacted the most sacred oaths, that
under no circumstances they would bury me until decomposition had so
materially advanced as to render farther preservation impossible. And,
even then, my mortal terrors would listen to no reason- would accept
no consolation.
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