Chapters (69)
- Cover
- ALSO BY KIERSTEN WHITE
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part One: How Can I Live Without Thee?
- Chapter One: To Be Weak Is Miserable
- Chapter Two: What Hath Night to Do with Sleep?
- Chapter Three: In Wandering Mazes Lost
- Chapter Four: Half Lost, I Seek
- Chapter Five: With Purpose to Explore or to Disturb
- Chapter Six: Round He Throws His Baleful Eyes
- Chapter Seven: I Sung of Chaos and Eternal Night
- Chapter Eight: Horror and Doubt Distract His Troubled Thoughts
- Chapter Nine: This Horror Will Grow Mild, This Darkness Light
- Chapter Ten: To Lose Thee Were to Lose Myself
- Chapter Eleven: When from Sleep I First Awaked
- Part Two: What Is Dark Within Me, Illumine
- Chapter Twelve: At Once Indebted and Discharged
- Chapter Thirteen: That All This Good of Evil Shall Produce
- Chapter Fourteen: What Can We Suffer Worse?
- Chapter Fifteen: Love or Hate, to Me Alike
- Chapter Sixteen: So Farewell Hope
- Part Three: Long Is the Way and Hard, That Out of Hell Leads Up to Light
- Chapter Seventeen: Which Way Shall I Fly
- Chapter Eighteen: His Dark Materials to Create More Worlds
- Chapter Nineteen: Should God Create Another Eve
- Chapter Twenty: Flesh of Flesh, Bone of My Bone
- Chapter Twenty-one: Him Whom to Love Is to Obey
- Chapter Twenty-two: Hail Horrors, Hail Infernal World
- Chapter Twenty-three: So Shall the World Go on, to Good Malignant, to Bad Men Benign
- Chapter Twenty-four: And Study of Revenge, Immortal Hate
- Chapter Twenty-five: Did I Request Thee, Maker, from My Clay, to Mold Me Man?
- Chapter Twenty-six: Which Way Shall I Fly
- Chapter Twenty-seven: That Must Be Our Cure: To Be No More
- Epilogue: I Sung of Chaos and Eternal Night
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from The Guinevere Deception
- About the Author
- TEACHER GUIDE, ARRANGED BY THEME
- Frankenstein
- Author’s Introduction
- Preface
- Chapter I
- Chapter II
- Chapter III
- Chapter IV
- Chapter V
- Chapter VI
- Chapter VII
- Chapter VIII
- Chapter IX
- Chapter X
- Chapter XI
- Chapter XII
- Chapter XIII
- Chapter XIV
- Chapter XV
- Chapter XVI
- Chapter XVII
- Chapter XVIII
- Chapter XIX
- Chapter XX
- Chapter XXI
- Chapter XXII
- Chapter XXIII
- Chapter XXIV
- About The Modern Library
- What’s next onyour reading list?
If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness, it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had come over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of the information they might give me on the subject in which my interest was so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Henry soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But busy uninteresting joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow-men; this barrier was sealed with the blood of William and Justine; and to reflect on the events connected with those names filled my soul with anguish.
But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive, and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of instruction and amusement. He was also pursuing an object he had long had in view. His design was to visit India, in the belief that he had in his knowledge of its various languages, and in the views he had taken of its society, the means of materially assisting the progress of European colonisation and trade. In Britain only could he further the execution of his plan. He was for ever busy; and the only check to his enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mind. I tried to conceal this as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him, alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also began to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme anguish, and every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips to quiver, and my heart to palpitate.
After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person in Scotland, who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned the beauties of his native country, and asked us if those were not sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north as Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this invitation; and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again mountains and streams, and all the wondrous works with which Nature adorns her chosen dwelling-places.