The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 2


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eagerly the countenance of the brother--but he had buried his face  
in his hands, and I could only perceive that a far more than ordinary  
wanness had overspread the emaciated fingers through which trickled many  
passionate tears.  
The disease of the lady Madeline had long baffled the skill of her  
physicians. A settled apathy, a gradual wasting away of the person,  
and frequent although transient affections of a partially cataleptical  
character, were the unusual diagnosis. Hitherto she had steadily borne  
up against the pressure of her malady, and had not betaken herself  
finally to bed; but, on the closing in of the evening of my arrival  
at the house, she succumbed (as her brother told me at night with  
inexpressible agitation) to the prostrating power of the destroyer;  
and I learned that the glimpse I had obtained of her person would thus  
probably be the last I should obtain--that the lady, at least while  
living, would be seen by me no more.  
For several days ensuing, her name was unmentioned by either Usher or  
myself: and during this period I was busied in earnest endeavors to  
alleviate the melancholy of my friend. We painted and read together; or  
I listened, as if in a dream, to the wild improvisations of his speaking  
guitar. And thus, as a closer and still closer intimacy admitted me more  
unreservedly into the recesses of his spirit, the more bitterly did  
I perceive the futility of all attempt at cheering a mind from which  
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