They are but
the prelude of that scene that shall shortly feast my eyes. Perceivest
thou not the earth to tremble beneath thy feet? Hearest thou not the
walls of thy hated mansion cracking to their ruin? Confusion is at hand.
_Chaos is come again._ Go on then, Roderic. Complete thy heroic
purpose." The spectre vanished, and all was uninterrupted silence.
The whole mind of Roderic was transformed from what it was. For the
impotence of lust, and the cruelty of inexorable triumph, he felt the
terrors of annihilation, and all the cold, damp tremblings of despair.
But the victory of innocence was not yet complete.
Imogen had sunk for a moment under the horrors that threatened her, but
she had not been so far impercipient as not to hear the murmuring of the
thunder, and to see the gleam of the lightning. The form however that
terrified Roderic, and the voice that addressed him, were perceived by
him alone.
The shepherdess opened her eyes, and beheld the degenerate ravisher
pale, aghast, and trembling. "It is well, Edwin. The Gods have declared
themselves. The Gods have suspended their thunder over the head of the
apostate. Rut, oh Edwin, could I have imagined it! Desolate and
oppressed as I have been, could I have supposed, that that form was
destined to fill up the measure of my woes! I once beheld it as the
harbinger of happiness, as the temple of integrity and innocence.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180