[Mathilda by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley]@TWC D-Link bookMathilda CHAPTER IV 11/13
When he was silent I tried to divert him, and when sometimes I stole to him during the energy of his passion I wept but did not desire to leave him.
Yet he suffered fearful agony; during the day he was more calm, but at night when I could not be with him he seemed to give the reins to his grief: he often passed his nights either on the floor in my mother's room, or in the garden; and when in the morning he saw me view with poignant grief his exhausted frame, and his person languid almost to death with watching he wept; but during all this time he spoke no word by which I might guess the cause of his unhappiness[.] If I ventured to enquire he would either leave me or press his finger on his lips, and with a deprecating look that I could not resist, turn away.
If I wept he would gaze on me in silence but he was no longer harsh and although he repulsed every caress yet it was with gentleness. He seemed to cherish a mild grief and softer emotions although sad as a relief from despair--He contrived in many ways to nurse his melancholy as an antidote to wilder passion[.] He perpetually frequented the walks that had been favourites with him when he and my mother wandered together talking of love and happiness; he collected every relick that remained of her and always sat opposite her picture which hung in the room fixing on it a look of sad despair--and all this was done in a mystic and awful silence.
If his passion subdued him he locked himself in his room; and at night when he wandered restlessly about the house, it was when every other creature slept. It may easily be imagined that I wearied myself with conjecture to guess the cause of his sorrow.
The solution that seemed to me the most probable was that during his residence in London he had fallen in love with some unworthy person, and that his passion mastered him although he would not gratify it: he loved me too well to sacrifise me to this inclination, and that he had now visited this house that by reviving the memory of my mother whom he so passionately adored he might weaken the present impression.
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