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Justine assumed an air of cheerfulness , while she with difficulty repressed her bitter tears . She embraced Elizabeth and said in a voice of half - suppressed emotion , “ Farewell , sweet lady , dearest Elizabeth , my beloved and only friend ; may heaven , in its bounty , bless and preserve you ; may this be the last misfortune that you will ever suffer ! Live , and be happy , and make others so . ” And on the morrow Justine died . Elizabeth’s heart - rending eloquence failed to move the judges from their settled conviction in the criminality of the saintly sufferer . My passionate and indignant appeals were lost upon them . And when I received their cold answers and heard the harsh , unfeeling reasoning of these men , my purposed avowal died away on my lips . Thus I might proclaim myself a madman , but not revoke the sentence passed upon my wretched victim . She perished on the scaffold as a murderess ! From the tortures of my own heart , I turned to contemplate the deep and voiceless grief of my Elizabeth . This also was my doing ! And my father’s woe , and the desolation of that late so smiling home all was the work of my thrice - accursed hands ! Ye weep , unhappy ones , but these are not your last tears ! Again shall you raise the funeral wail , and the sound of your lamentations shall again and again be heard ! Frankenstein , your son , your kinsman , your early , much - loved friend ; he who would spend each vital drop of blood for your sakes , who has no thought nor sense of joy except as it is mirrored also in your dear countenances , who would fill the air with blessings and spend his life in serving you — he bids you weep , to shed countless tears ; happy beyond his hopes , if thus inexorable fate be satisfied , and if the destruction pause before the peace of the grave have succeeded to your sad torments ! Thus spoke my prophetic soul , as , torn by remorse , horror , and despair , I beheld those I loved spend vain sorrow upon the graves of William and Justine , the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts . Chapter 9 Nothing is more painful to the human mind than , after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events , the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear . Justine died , she rested , and I was alive . The blood flowed freely in my veins , but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my heart which nothing could remove . Sleep fled from my eyes ; I wandered like an evil spirit , for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond description horrible , and more , much more ( I persuaded myself ) was yet behind . Yet my heart overflowed with kindness and the love of virtue . I had begun life with benevolent intentions and thirsted for the moment when I should put them in practice and make myself useful to my fellow beings . Now all was blasted ; instead of that serenity of conscience which allowed me to look back upon the past with self - satisfaction , and from thence to gather promise of new hopes , I was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt , which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures such as no language can describe .
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