their former ascendancy. He trembled at the scene which He was soon to
witness. He knew not how far the delusions of Magic might operate upon
his mind, and possibly might force him to some deed whose commission
would make the breach between himself and Heaven irreparable. In this
fearful dilemma, He would have implored God's assistance, but was
conscious that He had forfeited all claim to such protection. Gladly
would He have returned to the Abbey; But as He had past through
innumerable Caverns and winding passages, the attempt of regaining the
Stairs was hopeless. His fate was determined: No possibility of
escape presented itself: He therefore combated his apprehensions, and
called every argument to his succour, which might enable him to support
the trying scene with fortitude. He reflected that Antonia would be the
reward of his daring: He inflamed his imagination by enumerating her
charms. He persuaded himself that (as Matilda had observed), He always
should have time sufficient for repentance, and that as He employed HER
assistance, not that of the Daemons, the crime of Sorcery could not be
laid to his charge. He had read much respecting witchcraft: He
understood that unless a formal Act was signed renouncing his claim to
salvation, Satan would have no power over him. He was fully determined
not to execute any such act, whatever threats might be used, or
advantages held out to him.

Such were his meditations while waiting for Matilda. They were
interrupted by a low murmur which seemed at no great distance from him.
He was startled. He listened. Some minutes past in silence, after
which the murmur was repeated. It appeared to be the groaning of one
in pain. In any other situation, this circumstance would only have
excited his attention and curiosity:

In the present, his predominant sensation was that of terror. His
imagination totally engrossed by the ideas of sorcery and Spirits, He
fancied that some unquiet Ghost was wandering near him; or else that
Matilda had fallen a Victim to her presumption, and was perishing under
the cruel fangs of the Daemons. The noise seemed not to approach, but
continued to be heard at intervals. Sometimes it became more audible,
doubtless as the sufferings of the person who uttered the groans became
more acute and insupportable. Ambrosio now and then thought that He
could distinguish accents; and once in particular He was almost
convinced that He heard a faint voice