The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 2


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them. Our glances, however, rested not long upon the dead--for we could  
not regard her unawed. The disease which had thus entombed the lady in  
the maturity of youth, had left, as usual in all maladies of a strictly  
cataleptical character, the mockery of a faint blush upon the bosom and  
the face, and that suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is  
so terrible in death. We replaced and screwed down the lid, and, having  
secured the door of iron, made our way, with toil, into the scarcely  
less gloomy apartments of the upper portion of the house.  
And now, some days of bitter grief having elapsed, an observable change  
came over the features of the mental disorder of my friend. His  
ordinary manner had vanished. His ordinary occupations were neglected or  
forgotten. He roamed from chamber to chamber with hurried, unequal, and  
objectless step. The pallor of his countenance had assumed, if possible,  
a more ghastly hue--but the luminousness of his eye had utterly gone  
out. The once occasional huskiness of his tone was heard no more; and a  
tremulous quaver, as if of extreme terror, habitually characterized  
his utterance. There were times, indeed, when I thought his unceasingly  
agitated mind was laboring with some oppressive secret, to divulge which  
he struggled for the necessary courage. At times, again, I was obliged  
to resolve all into the mere inexplicable vagaries of madness, for I  
beheld him gazing upon vacancy for long hours, in an attitude of the  
profoundest attention, as if listening to some imaginary sound. It was  
no wonder that his condition terrified--that it infected me. I felt  
165  


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