slight clue, I
followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The blue Mediterranean
appeared; and, by a strange chance, I saw the fiend hide himself in a
vessel bound for the Black Sea.

Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I
have ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants informed me of
his path; sometimes he himself left some mark to guide me. The snows
descended on my head, and I saw the print of his huge step on the white
plain.

My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during
sleep alone that I could taste joy.

As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened and
the cold increased in the degree almost too severe to support. I found
the fiend had pursued his journey across the frost-bound sea in a
direction that led to no land, and exchanging my land sledge for one
fashioned for the Frozen Ocean I followed him.

I cannot guess how many days have passed since then. I was about to sink
under the accumulation of distress when you took me on board. But I had
determined, if you were going southward, still to trust myself to the
mercy of the seas rather than abandon my purpose--for my task is
unfulfilled.

_V.--Walton's Letter, continued_

A week has passed away while I have listened to the strangest tale that
ever imagination formed.

The only joy that Frankenstein can now know will be when he composes his
shattered spirit to peace and death.

September 12

I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility and glory.
September 9 the ice began to move, and we were in the most imminent
peril. I had promised the sailors that should a passage open to the
south, I would not continue my voyage, but would instantly direct my
course southward. On the 11th a breeze sprung from the west, and the
passage towards the south became perfectly free. Frankenstein bade me
farewell when he heard my decision, and died pressing my hand.

At midnight I heard the sound of a hoarse human voice in the cabin where
the remains of Frankenstein were lying. I entered, and there, over the
body, hung a form gigantic, but uncouth and distorted, and with a face
of appalling hideousness.

The monster uttered wild and incoherent self-reproaches. "He is dead who
called me into being," he cried, "and the remembrance of us both will
speedily vanish. Soon I shall die, and what I now feel be