I shall quit your vessel on the ice raft which brought me thither and shall seek the most northern extremity of the globe; I shall collect my funeral pile and consume to ashes this miserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious and unhallowed wretch who would create such another as I have been.

Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to describe—gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted in its proportions.

In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a rational creature and was bound towards him to assure, as far as was in my power, his happiness and well-being. This was my duty, but there was another still paramount to that.

"That is also my victim!" he exclaimed. "In his murder my crimes are consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close! Oh, Frankenstein! Generous and self-devoted being!"

He asked a multitude of questions concerning the route which the dæmon, as he called him, had pursued.

Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch.

"Do not ask me," cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; "_he_ can tell. Oh, save me! Save me!"

Nothing in human shape could have destroyed the fair child. _He_ was the murderer! I could not doubt it. The mere presence of the idea was an irresistible proof of the fact.

Could the dæmon who had (I did not for a minute doubt) murdered my brother also in his hellish sport have betrayed the innocent to death and ignominy?

For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I complained of his wickedness.