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The Last Man by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
page 155 of 524 (29%)
words. During the pathetic appeal with which it concludes, a stifled sob
attracted our attention to Perdita, the cessation of the music recalled her
to herself, she hastened out of the hall--I followed her. At first, she
seemed to wish to shun me; and then, yielding to my earnest questioning,
she threw herself on my neck, and wept aloud:--"Once more," she cried,
"once more on your friendly breast, my beloved brother, can the lost
Perdita pour forth her sorrows. I had imposed a law of silence on myself;
and for months I have kept it. I do wrong in weeping now, and greater wrong
in giving words to my grief. I will not speak! Be it enough for you to know
that I am miserable--be it enough for you to know, that the painted veil
of life is rent, that I sit for ever shrouded in darkness and gloom, that
grief is my sister, everlasting lamentation my mate!"

I endeavoured to console her; I did not question her! but I caressed her,
assured her of my deepest affection and my intense interest in the changes
of her fortune:--"Dear words," she cried, "expressions of love come upon
my ear, like the remembered sounds of forgotten music, that had been dear
to me. They are vain, I know; how very vain in their attempt to soothe or
comfort me. Dearest Lionel, you cannot guess what I have suffered during
these long months. I have read of mourners in ancient days, who clothed
themselves in sackcloth, scattered dust upon their heads, ate their bread
mingled with ashes, and took up their abode on the bleak mountain tops,
reproaching heaven and earth aloud with their misfortunes. Why this is the
very luxury of sorrow! thus one might go on from day to day contriving new
extravagances, revelling in the paraphernalia of woe, wedded to all the
appurtenances of despair. Alas! I must for ever conceal the wretchedness
that consumes me. I must weave a veil of dazzling falsehood to hide my
grief from vulgar eyes, smoothe my brow, and paint my lips in deceitful
smiles--even in solitude I dare not think how lost I am, lest I become
insane and rave."
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