protected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my
departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go, and
would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in
itself, but soothing inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.
I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of
this might happen. But through the whole period during which I was the
slave of my creature I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of
the moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend
would follow me and exempt my family from the danger of his
machinations.

It was in the latter end of September that I again quitted my native
country. My journey had been my own suggestion, and Elizabeth
therefore acquiesced, but she was filled with disquiet at the idea of
my suffering, away from her, the inroads of misery and grief. It had
been her care which provided me a companion in Clerval--and yet a man
is blind to a thousand minute circumstances which call forth a woman's
sedulous attention. She longed to bid me hasten my return; a thousand
conflicting emotions rendered her mute as she bade me a tearful, silent
farewell.

I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly
knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around.
I remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on
it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with
me. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through many beautiful
and majestic scenes, but my eyes were fixed and unobserving. I could
only think of the bourne of my travels and the work which was to occupy
me whilst they endured.

After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed
many leagues, I arrived at Strasbourg, where I waited two days for
Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He
was alive to every new scene, joyful when he saw the beauties of the
setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise and recommence a new
day. He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape and
the appearances of the sky. "This is what it is to live," he cried;
"how I enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are
you desponding and sorrowful!" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy
thoughts and neither saw the descent of the evening star nor the golden
sunrise reflected in the Rhine. And you, my frien