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"I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state

of utter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed and had

broken the only link that held me to the world. For the first

time the feelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I

did not strive to control them, but allowing myself to be borne

away by the stream, I bent my mind towards injury and death. When

I thought of my friends, of the mild voice of De Lacey, the

gentle eyes of Agatha, and the exquisite beauty of the Arabian,

these thoughts vanished and a gush of tears somewhat soothed me.

But again when I reflected that they had spurned and deserted me,

anger returned, a rage of anger, and unable to injure anything

human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As night

advanced, I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage,

and after having destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the

garden, I waited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk

to commence my operations.