Mathilda by Mary Shelly Chapter 4 Page 4

and to ask an explanation one glance at his face where a chaos of mighty passion seemed for ever struggling made me tremble and shrink to silence. I was dashed down from heaven to earth as a silly sparrow when pounced on by a hawk; my eyes swam and my head was bewildered by the sudden apparition of grief. Day after day passed marked only by my complaints and my tears; often I lifted my soul in vain prayer for a softer descent from joy to woe, or if that were denied me that I might be allowed to die, and fade for ever under the cruel blast that swept over me,

— — — for what should I do here, Like a decaying flower, still withering Under his bitter words, whose kindly heat Should give my poor heart life?

Sometimes I said to myself, this is an enchantment, and I must