[The Monk; a romance by M. G. Lewis]@TWC D-Link book
The Monk; a romance

CHAPTER II
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The convulsions continued for an hour: During that time her agonies were much milder than those which her groans created in the Abbot's heart.

Her every pang seemed a dagger in his bosom, and He cursed himself a thousand times for having adopted so barbarous a project.

The hour being expired, by degrees the Fits became less frequent, and Antonia less agitated.

She felt that her dissolution was approaching, and that nothing could save her.
'Worthy Ambrosio,' She said in a feeble voice, while She pressed his hand to her lips; 'I am now at liberty to express, how grateful is my heart for your attention and kindness.

I am upon the bed of death; Yet an hour, and I shall be no more.


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