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| | Melmoth the Wanderer, by Charles Maturin |
 | | Melmoth’s hands felt as cold as those of his dead uncle, when he drew the blotted pages from their nook. |
 | | Between him and the light stood the figure of Melmoth, just as he had seen him from the first; the figure was the same; the expression of the face was the same,—cold, stony, and rigid; the eyes, with their infernal and dazzling luster, were still the same. |
 | | The manuscript told no more of Melmoth, but mentioned that Stanton was finally liberated from his confinement,—that his pursuit of Melmoth was incessant and indefatigable,—that he himself allowed it to be a species of insanity,—that while he acknowledged it to be the master passion, he also felt it the master torment of his life. |
| etext.library.adelaide.edu.au /m/maturin/charles/melmoth (9179 words) |
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