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She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty.
When she again lived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me,
that that same evening William had teased her to let him wear
a very valuable miniature that she possessed of your mother.
This picture is gone, and was doubtless the temptation which urged
the murdered to the deed. We have no trace of him at present,
although our exertions to discover him are unremitted;
but they will not restore my beloved William!
Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth.
She weeps continually, and accuses herself unjustly
as the cause of his death; her words pierce my heart.
We are all unhappy; but will not that be an additional motive for you,
my son, to return and be our comforter? Your dear mother!
Alas, Victor! I now say, Thank God she did not live
to witness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling!
Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance
against the assassin, but with feelings of peace and gentleness,
that will heal, instead of festering, the wounds of our minds.
Enter the house of mourning, my friend, but with kindness
and affection for those who love you, and not with hatred
for your enemies.
Your affectionate and afflicted father,
Alphonse Frankenstein.
Geneva, May 12th, 17--.
Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter,
was surprised to observe the despair that succeeded the joy
I at first expressed on receiving new from my friends.
I threw the letter on the table, and covered my face with my hands.
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