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著者: Mary Shelley

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By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses that alarmed and
grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I
became capable of observing outward objects with any kind of
pleasure, I perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared and
that the young buds were shooting forth from the trees that
shaded my window. It was a divine spring, and the season
contributed greatly to my convalescence. I felt also sentiments
of joy and affection revive in my bosom; my gloom disappeared,
and in a short time I became as cheerful as before I was attacked
by the fatal passion.
"Dearest Clerval," exclaimed I, "how kind, how very good you are
to me. This whole winter, instead of being spent in study, as you
promised yourself, has been consumed in my sick room. How shall I
ever repay you? I feel the greatest remorse for the
disappointment of which I have been the occasion, but you will
forgive me."

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