The Count of Monte Cristo

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What do I say? Oh, merciful heavens, was I not accessory to his death by
my supine insensibility, by my contempt for him, not remembering, or not
willing to remember, that it was for my sake he had become a traitor and
a perjurer? In what am I benefited by accompanying my son so far, since
I now abandon him, and allow him to depart alone to the baneful climate
of Africa? Oh, I have been base, cowardly, I tell you; I have abjured
my affections, and like all renegades I am of evil omen to those who
surround me!"

"No, Mercedes," said Monte Cristo, "no; you judge yourself with too
much severity. You are a noble-minded woman, and it was your grief
that disarmed me. Still I was but an agent, led on by an invisible and
offended Deity, who chose not to withhold the fatal blow that I was
destined to hurl. I take that God to witness, at whose feet I have
prostrated myself daily for the last ten years, that I would have
sacrificed my life to you, and with my life the projects that were
indissolubly linked with it. But--and I say it with some pride,