bserved in you from
day to day, and of which I have hitherto vainly sought to find the
cause."

"But the symptoms you speak of as alarming are nothing but exhaustion, a
sort of reaction of the bodily and mental powers; do you not think so?
Tell me! I am not surely in any danger of dying?"

"There is no immediate danger, but your situation is precarious; and
there are some thoughts you must cease to dwell on--nay, banish from
your memory--or your danger is imminent."

"I will do whatever you bid me, so that my life be preserved,--for I
will not die. Oh, let priests talk of the sufferings of the damned, but
what are their tortures compared to mine? Tormented alike by passion and
avarice, I have two open wounds rankling in my heart, each occasioning
mortal agony. The loss of my fortune is dreadful, but the fear of death
is even still more so. I have desired to live; and though my existence
may probably be but one protracted scene of endless wretchedness, it is
preferable to death and annihilation; for it would be the termination of
my fatal happiness,--the power of recalling each word and look of
Cecily!"

"You have at least one vast consolation," said Polidori, resuming his
accustomed _sang-froid_, "in the recollection of the good actions by
which you have sought to expiate your crimes!"

"Rail on! Mock my misery! Turn me on the hot coals on which my ill
fortune has placed me! But you well know, mean and contemptible being
that you are, how I hate, how I loathe all mankind, and that these
forced expiations to which I am condemned only serve to increase my
detestation of those who compel me to make them, and those who profit by
them. By all that is sacred, it passes human malice to condemn me to
live in endless misery, such as would dismay the stoutest nature, while
my fellow creatures, as they are called, have all their griefs assuaged
at the cost of my dearly prized treasures! Oh, that priest who but now
quitted us, loading me with blessings while my heart seemed like one
vast ocean of fiery gall and bitterness against himself and all
mankind--oh, how I longed to plunge a dagger in his breast! 'Tis too
much--too much for endurance!" cried he, pressing his clenched hands to
his forehead; "my brain burns, my ideas become confused, I shall not be
able much longer to resist these violent attacks of impotent, futile
rage,--these unending tortures; and all through you, Cecily,--fatal,
adored Cecily! Will you ever know al