The Mysteries of London, v. 2/4Reynolds, George W. M. (George William MacArthur)
General
The Mysteries of London, v. 2/4
Reynolds, George W. M. (George William MacArthur)
London (England) -- Fiction; Penny dreadfuls
"An hour afterwards Adeline dragged herself back to the room in which
she slept. That was a fearful night for us both: it was for _me_—it must
have been for _her_! I never closed my eyes: this terrible event weighed
upon my soul like a crime. I felt as if I had been the accomplice in
some awful deed of darkness. The cold and placid moon seemed to reproach
me—as if its bright orb were heaven's own all-seeing eye!
"I could not endure that calm—unvarying—steadfast light, which appeared
to be a glance immoveably fixed upon _me_. It drove me mad—it pierced my
brain. That cloudless moon seemed to shine on none of earth's denizens,
save myself. Methought that from its empyrean height it surveyed every
nook, every crevice of my lonely garret; and at length so icy became its
gaze, that I shuddered from head to foot—my teeth chattered—my limbs
grew rigid. There was a deep conviction in my soul that the eye of God
was upon me!
"I knelt down at last, and tried to pray. I called upon heaven—I called
upon my father—I called upon my brother, to pardon me! Then once more I
turned my eyes towards the moon; and its reproachful, chilling glance
seemed to penetrate to the depths of my secret soul,—singling me, _me_
out for its maddening scrutiny,—marking _me_ alone, of all the human
race, for its calm, but bitter contemplation.
"At length the orb of night was no longer visible from my window,
although its silver flood still inundated the dwellings and the country
of which my garret commanded a view. Then I grew more tranquil:—but I
could not sleep!
"Never was morning more welcome to the guilty imagination haunted by the
fearful apparitions of the night, than it was to me. I composed myself
as well as I could; but when I surveyed my countenance in the glass, I
was dismayed by its awful pallor—its haggardness—its care-worn look. I
did not dare plead illness, as an excuse for keeping my chamber; because
I was too anxious to ascertain what course Miss Enfield would pursue to
escape those inquiries that her appearance, I felt convinced, must
elicit. Besides, there was _something_ in my box which—but of that no
matter at present.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account