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life ah； more fair for the daughters of heaven and death！〃
I kissed her forehead； and she continued：
〃I am dying； yet shall I live。〃
〃Morella！〃
〃The days have never been when thou couldst love me but her whom
in life thou didst abhor； in death thou shalt adore。〃
〃Morella！〃
〃I repeat I am dying。 But within me is a pledge of that affection
ah； how little！ which thou didst feel for me； Morella。 And when my
spirit departs shall the child live thy child and mine； Morella's。
But thy days shall be days of sorrow that sorrow which is the most
lasting of impressions； as the cypress is the most enduring of trees。
For the hours of thy happiness are over and joy is not gathered twice
in a life； as the roses of Paestum twice in a year。 Thou shalt no
longer； then； play the Teian with time； but； being ignorant of the
myrtle and the vine； thou shalt bear about with thee thy shroud on
the earth； as do the Moslemin at Mecca。〃
〃Morella！〃 I cried； 〃Morella！ how knowest thou this？〃 but she turned
away her face upon the pillow and a slight tremor coming over her
limbs； she thus died； and I heard her voice no more。
Yet； as she had foretold； her child； to which in dying she had given
birth； which breathed not until the mother breathed no more； her
child； a daughter； lived。 And she grew strangely in stature and
intellect； and was the perfect resemblance of her who had departed；
and I loved her with a love more fervent than I had believed it
possible to feel for any denizen of earth。
But； ere long the heaven of this pure affection became darkened； and
gloom； and horror； and grief swept over it in clouds。 I said the
child grew strangely in stature and intelligence。 Strange； indeed；
was her rapid increase in bodily size； but terrible； oh！ terrible
were the tumultuous thoughts which crowded upon me while watching the
development of her mental being。 Could it be otherwise； when I daily
discovered in the conceptions of the child the adult powers and
faculties of the woman？ when the lessons of experience fell from the
lips of infancy？ and when the wisdom or the passions of maturity I
found hourly gleaming from its full and speculative eye？ When； I say；
all this beeame evident to my appalled senses； when I could no longer
hide it from my soul； nor throw it off from those perceptions which
trembled to receive it； is it to be wondered at that suspicions； of a
nature fearful and exciting； crept in upon my spirit； or that my
thoughts fell back aghast upon the wild tales and thrilling theories
of the entombed Morella？ I snatched from the scrutiny of the world a
being whom destiny compelled me to adore； and in the rigorous
seclusion of my home； watched with an agonizing anxiety over all
which concerned the beloved。
And as years rolled away； and I gazed day after day upon her holy；
and mild； and eloquent face； and poured over her maturing form； day
after day did I discover new points of resemblance in the child to
her mother； the melancholy and the dead。 And hourly grew darker these
shadows of similitude； and more full； and more definite； and more
perplexing； and more hideously terrible in their aspect。 For that her
smile was like her mother's I could bear； but then I shuddered at its
too perfect identity； that her eyes were like Morella's I could
endure； but then they； too； often looked down into the depths of my
soul with Morella's own intense and bewildering meaning。 And in the
contour of the high forehead； and in the ringlets of the silken hair；
and in the wan fingers which buried themselves therein； and in the
sad musical tones of her speech； and above all oh； above all； in
the phrases and expressions of the dead on the lips of the loved and
the living； I found food for consuming thought and horror； for a worm
that would not die。
Thus passed away two lustra of her life； and as yet my daughter
remained nameless upon the earth。 〃My child；〃 and 〃my love；〃 were the
designations usually prompted by a father's affection； and the rigid
seclusion of her days precluded all other intercourse。 Morella's name
died with her at her death。 Of the mother I had never spoken to the
daughter； it was impossible to speak。 Indeed； during the brief period
of her existence； the latter had received no impressions from the
outward world； save such as might have been afforded by the narrow
limits of her privacy。 But at length the ceremony of baptism
presented to my mind； in its unnerved and agitated condition； a
present deliverance from the terrors of my destiny。 And at the
baptismal font I hesitated for a name。 And many titles of the wise
and beautiful； of old and modern times； of my own and foreign lands；
came thronging to my lips； with many； many fair titles of the gentle；
and the happy； and the good。 What prompted me then to disturb the
memory of the buried dead？ What demon urged me to breathe that sound；
which in its very recollection was wont to make ebb the purple blood
in torrents from the temples to the heart？ What fiend spoke from the
recesses of my soul； when amid those dim aisles； and in the silence
of the night； I whispered within the ears of the holy man the
syllables Morella？ What more than fiend convulsed the features of
my child； and overspread them with hues of death； as starting at that
scarcely audible sound； she turned her glassy eyes from the earth to
heaven； and falling prostrate on the black slabs of our ancestral
vault； responded 〃I am here！〃
Distinct； coldly； calmly distinct； fell those few simple sounds
within my ear； and thence like molten lead rolled hissingly into my
brain。 Years years may pass away； but the memory of that epoch
never。 Nor was I indeed ignorant of the flowers and the vine but
the hemlock and the cypress overshadowed me night and day。 And I kept
no reckoning of time or place； and the stars of my fate faded from
heaven； and therefore the earth grew dark； and its figures passed by
me like flitting shadows； and among them all I beheld only
Morella。 The winds of the firmament breathed but one sound within my
ears； and the ripples upon the sea murmured evermore Morella。 But
she died； and with my own hands I bore her to the tomb； and I laughed
with a long and bitter laugh as I found no traces of the first in the
channel where I laid the second。 Morella。
~~~ End of Text ~~~
A TALE OF THE RAGGED MOUNTAINS
DURING the fall of the year 1827； while residing near
Charlottesville； Virginia； I casually made the acquaintance of Mr。
Augustus Bedloe。 This young gentleman was remarkable in every
respect； and excited in me a profound interest and curiosity。 I found
it impossible to comprehend him either in his moral or his physical
relations。 Of his family I could obtain no satisfactory account。
Whence he came； I never ascertained。 Even about his age although I
call him a young gentleman there was something which perplexed me
in no little degree。 He certainly seemed young and he made a point
of speaking about his youth yet there were moments when I should
have had little trouble in imagining him a hundred years of age。 But
in no regard was he more peculiar than in his personal appearance。 He
was singularly tall and thin。 He stooped much。 His limbs were
exceedingly long and emaciated。 His forehead was broad and low。 His
complexion was absolutely bloodless。 His mouth was large and
flexible； and his teeth were more wildly uneven； although sound； than
I had ever before seen teeth in a human head。 The expression of his
smile； however； was by no means unpleasing； as might be supposed； but
it had no variation whatever。 It was one of profound melancholy of
a phaseless and unceasing gloom。 His eyes were abnormally large； and
round like those of a cat。 The pupils； too； upon any accession or
diminution of light； underwent contraction or dilation； just such as
is observed in the feline tribe。 In moments of excitement the orbs
grew bright to a degree almost inconceivable； seeming to emit
luminous rays； not of a reflected but of an intrinsic lustre； as does
a candle or the sun； yet their ordinary condition was so totally
vapid； filmy； and dull as to convey the idea of the eyes of a
long…interred corpse。
These peculiarities of person appeared to cause him much annoyance；
and he was continually alluding to them in a sort of half
explanatory； half apologetic strain； which； when I first heard it；
impressed me very painfully。 I soon； however； grew accustomed to it；
and my uneasiness wore off。 It seemed to be his design rather to
insinuate than directly to assert that； physically； he had not always
been what he was that a long series of neuralgic attacks had
reduced him from a condition of more than usual personal beauty； to
that which I saw。 For many years past he had been attended by a
physician； named Templeton an old gentleman； perhaps seventy years
of age whom he had first encountered at Saratoga； and from whose
attention； while there； he either received； or fancied that he
received； great benefit。 The result was that Bedloe； who was wealthy；
had made an arrangement with Dr。 Templeton； by which the latter； in
consideration of a liberal annual allowance； had consented to devote
his time and