Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1883-10-06
FRANK ENSTEIN
THE MODERN PRoMETHEus
BY MRS. M. w. SHELLEY
CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVII.
Day after day, week after week
passed away on my return to Ge
neva and I could not collect tn
courage to recommence my work
l feared the vengeance of the dis
appointed fiend, yet / was unabl
to overcome my repugnanee to the
task which was enjoined me.
found that | could not compose 4
female without again devotins
several months to profound study
and laborious disquisition. / haC
heard of some discoveries having
been made by an English philoso
pher, the knowledge of which was
material to my success, and some
times thought of obtaining my
fathers consent to visit England FOL
this purpose; but / clung to every
pretense OF delay, and could not
resolve to interrupt my returning
tranquility. My health, which
had hitherto declined, was now
much restored and my spirits,
when unchecked by the memory o
my unhappy promise, rose proper.
tionably. My fathersaw this change
with pleasure, and he turned his
thoughts toward the best method OF
eradicating the remains of my mel
ancholy, which every now and then
would return by fits, and with a de-
vouring blackness overcast the ap-
proaching sunshine. AT these mo-
'ments / took refuge in the most per-
feet solitude. / passed whole days
on the lake alone in little boat,
watching the clouds, and listening
to the ripping of the waves, silent
and listless. But the fresh air and
bright sun seldom failed to restore
me to some degree of composure ;
and, on my return, met the sa-
lutations of my friends with read
ier smile and more cheerful
heart.
1t was after my return from one
of these rambles that my father
calling me aside, thus addressed
me -
~ am happy to remark, my dear
son, that you have resumed your
former pleasures, and seem to be
returning to yourself. And yet you
are still unhappy, and still avoid
our society. For some time was
lost in conjecture as to the cause
this, but yesterday an idea struck
me; and, if it is well founded, l
conjure you to avOW it. Reserve
on such a point would be not only
useless, but draw down treble mis-
cry on us ALL"
~ / trembled violently at this exOr-
dunn, and my father continued
81 confess, my son, that | have
always looked forward to your
marriage with your cousin as the
tie of our domestic comfort, and the
stay of my declining years. You
were attached to each other from
your earliest infancy; you studied
together, and appeared, in disposi-
tiOns and tastes, entirely suited to
one another. But so blind is the
experience Of man, that what l con-
ceived to be the best assistants to
my plan may have entirely de
stroyed it. You, perhaps, regard
her as your sister, without any
wish that she might become your
wife. Nay, you have met with
another whom you may love and,
considering yourself as bound IN
honor to your cousin, this struggle
may occasion the poignant misery
which you appear to feel"
"My dear father, re;tssure your
self. ! love my cousin tenderly
and sincerely. | never saw any
woman who excited, as Elizabeth
does, my warmest admiration and
affection. My future hopes and
prospects are entirely bound up in
the expectation of our union"
"The expression of your sentl-
ments on this subject, my dear
Victor, gives me more pleasure
than 1 have for some time expert
enced. If you feel this, we shall
assuredly be happy, however pres
ent events may cast a gloom over
us. But II is this gloom, which ap-
pears to have taken su strong Il hold
of your mind, that | wish to dis
sipate. Tell me, therefore, whether
you object TO an immediate solemn
izatiOn of the marriage. We have
been unfortunate, and recent
events have drawn Us frotn that
everyday tranquility befitting my
years and iniirmities. You are
younger, yet do not suppose, pos
seSsed, as you are, of competent
fortune, that an early marriage
would at all interfere with any fu-
ture plans of honor and utility that
you may have formed. DO not
suppose, however, that | wish to
dictate happiness to you, or that a
delay on your own part would
cause me any serious uneaSineSs.
Interpret my words with candOr,
and answer me, Il conjure you,
with confidence and sincerity"
| listened TO my father in silence,
and remained for some time incapa-
BILE of Offering any reply. | re-
volved rapidly in my mind null
titude of thoughts, and endeavored
to arrive at some conclusion. Alas
to me the idea of an immediate
union with my cousin was one of
horror and di"may. l was bound
by solemn promise, which | had
not yet fulfilled, and dared not
break or, it did, what manifold
miseries might not impend oyer
me and my devoted family! Could
enter into Il festival with this
deadly weight yet hanging round
my neck, and bowling me to the
ground? | must perform my en-
and let the monster de-
part with his mate, before / allowed
myself to enjoy the delight of a
union from which / expected peace.
/ remembered also the necessity
imposed upon me ofeither journey
ing to England, or entering into a
long correspondence with those
ct that country, whose
and discoveries were of
use to me in my pres
ant undertaking The latter meth
od of obtaining the desired intel
Iigence Was dilatOry and unsatis-
factory F; besides, any variation was
agreeable to me, and | was delight
ed with the idea of spending year
Or two in change Of scene and vari-
ETY. of occupation, in absence from
my family; during which period
some event might happen which
would restore me to them in peace
and happiness; my promise might
be fulfilled, and the monster have
departed or some accident might
occur to destroy him, and put an
snd to my slavery forever.
These feelings dictated my an
,wer to my father. expressed a
wish to visit England; but, con-
cealing the true reasons of this re-
quest, / clothed my desires under
he srIliSn of wishing fnl fra val and