WHEN _Susannah_ told the corporal the misadventure of the sash, with
all the circumstances which attended the _murder_ of me,—(as she called
it,)—the blood forsook his cheeks,—all accessaries in murder being
principals,—_Trim_’s conscience told him he was as much to blame as
_Susannah_,—and if the doctrine had been true, my uncle _Toby_ had as
much of the bloodshed to answer for to heaven, as either of ’em;—so
that neither reason or instinct, separate or together, could possibly
have guided _Susannah_’s steps to so proper an asylum. It is in vain to
leave this to the Reader’s imagination:——to form any kind of hypothesis
that will render these propositions feasible, he must cudgel his brains
sore,—and to do it without,—he must have such brains as no reader ever
had before him.—Why should I put them either to trial or to torture?
’Tis my own affair: I’ll explain it myself.