Did I solicit thee
    From darkness to promote me?——

    Paradise Lost. CHAPTER I. Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and
I could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the
vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my
repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not
compose a female without again devoting several months to profound study
and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries having been
made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was material to
my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my father’s consent to
visit England for this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay,
and could not resolve to interrupt my returning tranquillity. My health,
which had hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when
unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. My
father saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts towards
the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy, which
every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring blackness
overcast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I took refuge in the
most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake alone in a little
boat, watching the clouds, and listening to the rippling 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, I met the
salutations of my friends with a readier smile and a more cheerful
heart. It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father, calling
me aside, thus addressed me:—

“I 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 I was lost in
conjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, and
if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a point
would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all.”

I trembled violently at this exordium, and my father continued—

“I confess, my son, that I 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 dispositions and tastes,
entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the experience of man,
that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my plan may have
entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your sister, without
any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may have met with
another whom you may love; and, considering yourself as bound in honour
to your cousin, this struggle may occasion the poignant misery which you
appear to feel.”

“My dear father, re-assure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and
sincerely. I 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 sentiments on this subject, my dear Victor,
gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you
feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast
a gloom over us. But it is this gloom, which appears to have taken so
strong a hold of your mind, that I wish to dissipate. Tell me,
therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of the
marriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us from
that every-day tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You are
younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent
fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future
plans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose,
however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you, or that a delay on
your part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words
with candour, and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and
sincerity.”

I listened to my father in silence, and remained for some time incapable
of offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of
thoughts, and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! to me the
idea of an immediate union with my cousin was one of horror and dismay. I was bound by a solemn promise, which I had not yet fulfilled, and
dared not break; or, if I did, what manifold miseries might not impend
over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival with this
deadly weight yet hanging round my neck, and bowing me to the ground. I
must perform my engagement, and let the monster depart with his mate,
before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of an union from which I
expected peace. I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to
England, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers
of that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable
use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the
desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, any
variation was agreeable to me, and I was delighted with the idea of
spending a year or two in change of scene and variety 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 end to my slavery for ever. These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to
visit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I
clothed my desires under the guise of wishing to travel and see the
world before I sat down for life within the walls of my native town. I urged my entreaty with earnestness, and my father was easily induced
to comply; for a more indulgent and less dictatorial parent did not
exist upon earth. Our plan was soon arranged. I should travel to
Strasburgh, where Clerval would join me. Some short time would be spent
in the towns of Holland, and our principal stay would be in England. We
should return by France; and it was agreed that the tour should occupy
the space of two years. My father pleased himself with the reflection, that my union with
Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return to Geneva. “These
two years,” said he, “will pass swiftly, and it will be the last delay
that will oppose itself to your happiness. And, indeed, I earnestly
desire that period to arrive, when we shall all be united, and neither
hopes or fears arise to disturb our domestic calm.”

“I am content,” I replied, “with your arrangement. By that time we shall
both have become wiser, and I hope happier, than we at present are.” I
sighed; but my father kindly forbore to question me further concerning
the cause of my dejection.