“I thank you, Walton,” he said, “for
your kind intentions towards so miserable a wretch;
but when you speak of new ties and fresh affections,
think you that any can replace those who are gone?
Can any man be to me as Clerval was, or any woman another
Elizabeth? Even where the affections are not
strongly moved by any superior excellence, the companions
of our childhood always possess a certain power over
our minds which hardly any later friend can obtain.
They know our infantine dispositions, which, however
they may be afterwards modified, are never eradicated;
and they can judge of our actions with more certain
conclusions as to the integrity of our motives.
A sister or a brother can never, unless indeed such
symptoms have been shown early, suspect the other of
fraud or false dealing, when another friend, however
strongly he may be attached, may, in spite of himself,
be contemplated with suspicion. But I enjoyed
friends, dear not only through habit and association,
but from their own merits; and wherever I am, the soothing
voice of my Elizabeth and the conversation of Clerval
will be ever whispered in my ear. They are dead,
and but one feeling in such a solitude can persuade
me to preserve my life. If I were engaged in
any high undertaking or design, fraught with extensive
utility to my fellow creatures, then could I live
to fulfil it. But such is not my destiny; I
must pursue and destroy the being to whom I gave existence;
then my lot on earth will be fulfilled and I may die.”
My beloved Sister, September 2nd
I write to you, encompassed by peril and ignorant
whether I am ever doomed to see again dear England
and the dearer friends that inhabit it. I am
surrounded by mountains of ice which admit of no escape
and threaten every moment to crush my vessel.
The brave fellows whom I have persuaded to be my
companions look towards me for aid, but I have none
to bestow. There is something terribly appalling
in our situation, yet my courage and hopes do not
desert me. Yet it is terrible to reflect that
the lives of all these men are endangered through
me. If we are lost, my mad schemes are the cause.
And what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind?
You will not hear of my destruction, and you will
anxiously await my return. Years will pass,
and you will have visitings of despair and yet be tortured
by hope. Oh! My beloved sister, the sickening
failing of your heart-felt expectations is, in prospect,
more terrible to me than my own death.
But you have a husband and lovely children; you may
be happy. Heaven bless you and make you so!
