He again raised himself up suddenly, and gazed upon
Matilda with all the wildness of despair.
'And you have sacrificed yourself for me! You die, and die to preserve
Ambrosio! And is there indeed no remedy, Matilda? And is there indeed
no hope? Speak to me, Oh! speak to me! Tell me, that you have still
the means of life!'
'Be comforted, my only Friend! Yes, I have still the means of life in
my power: But 'tis a means which I dare not employ. It is dangerous!
It is dreadful! Life would be purchased at too dear a rate, ...
unless it were permitted me to live for you.'
'Then live for me, Matilda, for me and gratitude!'-- (He caught her
hand, and pressed it rapturously to his lips.)--'Remember our late
conversations; I now consent to every thing: Remember in what lively
colours you described the union of souls; Be it ours to realize those
ideas. Let us forget the distinctions of sex, despise the world's
prejudices, and only consider each other as Brother and Friend. Live
then, Matilda! Oh! live for me!'
'Ambrosio, it must not be. When I thought thus, I deceived both you
and myself. Either I must die at present, or expire by the lingering
torments of unsatisfied desire. Oh! since we last conversed together,
a dreadful veil has been rent from before my eyes. I love you no
longer with the devotion which is paid to a Saint: I prize you no more
for the virtues of your soul; I lust for the enjoyment of your person.
The Woman reigns in my bosom, and I am become a prey to the wildest of
passions. Away with friendship! 'tis a cold unfeeling word. My bosom
burns with love, with unutterable love, and love must be its return.
Tremble then, Ambrosio, tremble to succeed in your prayers. If I live,
your truth, your reputation, your reward of a life past in sufferings,
all that you value is irretrievably lost. I shall no longer be able to
combat my passions, shall seize every opportunity to excite your
desires, and labour to effect your dishonour and my own. No, no,
Ambrosio; I must not live! I am convinced with every moment, that I
have but one alternative; I feel with every heart-throb, that I must
enjoy you, or die.'
'Amazement!--Matilda! Can it be you who speak to me?'
He made a movement as if to quit his seat. She uttered a loud shriek,
and raising herself half out of the Bed, threw her arms round the Friar
to detain him.
'Oh! do not leave me! Listen to my errors with compassion! In a few
ho
|