"Alas! Yes, my
father," replied I; "some destiny of the most horrible kind hangs over
me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I should have died on the
coffin of Henry."
We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the
precarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary that
could ensure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in and insisted that my
strength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But the
appearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and I
gradually recovered my health.
As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black
melancholy that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval was
forever before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitation
into which these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerous
relapse. Alas! Why did they preserve so miserable and detested a
life? It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now
drawing to a close. Soon, oh, very soon, will death extinguish these
throbbings and relieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears
me to the dust; and, in executing the award of justice, I shall also
sink to rest. Then the appearance of death was distant, although the
wish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours
motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution that
might bury me and my destroyer in its ruins.
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