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Lewis, M. G. (Matthew Gregory), 1775-1818

"The Monk; a romance"



CHAPTER IV
----Ah! how dark
These long-extended realms and rueful wastes;
Where nought but silence reigns, and night, dark night,
Dark as was Chaos ere the Infant Sun
Was rolled together, or had tried its beams
Athwart the gloom profound!
The sickly Taper
By glimmering through thy low-browed misty vaults,
Furred round with mouldy damps, and ropy slime,
Lets fall a supernumerary horror,
And only serves to make
Thy night more irksome!
Blair.
Returned undiscovered to the Abbey, Ambrosio's mind was filled
with the most pleasing images. He was wilfully blind to the
danger of exposing himself to Antonia's charms: He only
remembered the pleasure which her society had afforded him, and
rejoiced in the prospect of that pleasure being repeated. He
failed not to profit by Elvira's indisposition to obtain a sight
of her Daughter every day. At first He bounded his wishes to
inspire Antonia with friendship: But no sooner was He convinced
that She felt that sentiment in its fullest extent, than his aim
became more decided, and his attentions assumed a warmer colour.
The innocent familiarity with which She treated him, encouraged
his desires: Grown used to her modesty, it no longer commanded
the same respect and awe: He still admired it, but it only made
him more anxious to deprive her of that quality which formed her
principal charm. Warmth of passion, and natural penetration, of
which latter unfortunately both for himself and Antonia He
possessed an ample share, supplied a knowledge of the arts of
seduction.


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