“On her deathbed the
fortitude and benignity did not desert her. She died calmly and her countenance
expressed affection even in death. I need not describe the feelings of those
whose dearest ties are rent by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents
itself to the soul and the despair.
It is so long before the mind
can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day and whose very existence
appeared a part of our own can have departed forever, that the brightness of a
beloved eye can have been extinguished, and the sound of a voice so familiar
and dear can be hushed, never more to be heard.
Yet from whom has not that
rude hand rent away some dear connection. And why should I describe a sorrow
which all have felt and must feel. The time at length arrives when grief
is rather an indulgence than a necessity . and the smile that plays upon
the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not banished. She is dead,
but we still have duties which we ought to perform. We must continue our course
with the rest, and learn to think ourselves fortunate, whilst one remains whom
the spoiler has not seized.”
Mary Shelley
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