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 the malice of the most vile, Oh! let me again endeavour to regain some composure; let me also endeavour not to be too ready in anticipating evil."

She felt still disinclined to sleep, yet gladly would she have closed her eyes upon the gloom of her chamber—a gloom, rendered more awful by the profound stillness of the castle, and which was calculated to inspire ideas not easily to be resisted in the present state of her mind.

In short, imaginary horrors soon began to succeed the real ones that had lately agitated her; yet scarcely was she infected by them ere she blushed from a conviction of weakness, and resolved on going to bed. She began to undress, though with a trembling hand; nor could refrain from starting as the low murmurs of the wind (which now, in the decline of autumn, frequently growled through the forest, and