![]() He could not but see the looks of horror which the women exchanged as he approached it. He could not but remark his uncle’s extraordinary look, that had the ghastliness of fear superadded to that of death, as he gave him permission to enter his closet. He had some difficulty in finding out the wine, and indeed staid long enough to justify his uncle’s suspicions,–but his mind was agitated, and his hand unsteady. He was undeceived by the whisper that followed,–’John, my lad, don’t drink any of that wine while you are there.’ ‘Good God!’ said John, indignantly throwing the key on the bed then, recollecting that the miserable being before him was no object of resentment, he gave the promise required, and entered the closet, which no foot but that of old Melmoth had entered for nearly sixty years. John took the key from his uncle’s hand the dying man pressed it as he did so, and John, interpreting this as a mark of kindness, returned the pressure. ![]()
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