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लेखक: Mary Shelley

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स्टार्ट दबाएं और पंक्तियां सटीक टाइप करें। · बैकस्पेस अक्षम — गलती के बाद भी जारी रखें।

Chapter 7
On my return, I found the following letter from my father:-
"My dear Victor,
"You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the
date of your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write
only a few lines, merely mentioning the day on which I should
expect you. But that would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do
it. What would be your surprise, my son, when you expected a
happy and glad welcome, to behold, on the contrary, tears and
wretchedness? And how, Victor, can I relate our misfortune?
Absence cannot have rendered you callous to our joys and griefs;
and how shall I inflict pain on my long absent son? I wish to
prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is impossible;
even now your eye skims over the page to seek the words which are
to convey to you the horrible tidings.
"William is dead!-that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and
warmed my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is
murdered!

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