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键盘

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作者: Mary Shelley

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I would have made a pilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes,
could I, when there, have precipitated him to their base. I
wished to see him again, that I might wreak the utmost extent of
abhorrence on his head and avenge the deaths of William and
Justine.
Our house was the house of mourning. My father's health was
deeply shaken by the horror of the recent events. Elizabeth was
sad and desponding; she no longer took delight in her ordinary
occupations; all pleasure seemed to her sacrilege toward the
dead; eternal woe and tears she then thought was the just tribute
she should pay to innocence so blasted and destroyed. She was no
longer that happy creature who in earlier youth wandered with me
on the banks of the lake and talked with ecstasy of our future
prospects. The first of those sorrows which are sent to wean us
from the earth had visited her, and its dimming influence
quenched her dearest smiles.

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