CHAPTER 6
Clerval then put the following letter into my hands. It was from my own Elizabeth:
“ My dearest Cousin,
“ You have been ill, very ill, and even the constant letters of dear kind Henry are not sufficient to reassure me on your account. You are f*******n to write—to hold a pen; yet one word from you, dear Victor, is necessary to calm our apprehensions. For a long time I have thought that each post would bring this line, and my persuasions have restrained my uncle from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. I have prevented his encountering the inconveniences and perhaps dangers of so long a journey, yet how often have I regretted not being able to perform it myself! I figure to myself that the task of attending on your sickbed has devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could
