I came to once again in the form of Henry Jekyll, the feeling of my height and mass attended to this fact, but the leaden feeling within me would have been enough without this proof. The draught had done its swift work and returned me to my own flesh, but it was with great regret that I regained myself. The feeling of being Edward Hyde, while not something I could wholly recall in my normal state, was intoxicating like the finest wines, even though I knew from the face in the mirror that the alter ego my drug brought forth was wholly evil. This was something I had not foreseen, but it should have been obvious. If I were to split myself into parts, it made sense that one of them would remain the stolid and reliable Henry Jekyll of old, while the other would be a distillation of my essence. Maybe I had hoped that the essence distilled would be my good parts, my charity and faith embodied in a fine form. I was saddened, but on reflection hardly surprised, that the largest part of my essence was formed by my baser emotions and desires, grown in darkness though they were.