Chapter 932:

No one can think of the pain I suffered in the rest of the night, whether it was cold or wet, I spent it in the open air. But I do not feel the weather inconvenience. In scenes of evil and despair, my imagination is very busy. I considered the person I was abandoned in the human race, and was given the will and power to achieve terrifying purposes. For example, what he is doing now is almost based on my own vampire, my own spirit is forced to destroy from the grave Everything I cherish.
At dawn; then I took a step towards the town. The door opened, and I hurried to my father's house. One of my thoughts was to discover what I knew about the murderer and immediately pursue the hunt. But when I recalled the story I was about to tell, I stopped. A kind of life that I have formed myself and full of life, I met me at midnight on the cliffs of an inaccessible mountain range. I also remembered the kind of neurotic fever that I caught when I was dating the creative, which would bring a false story to an otherwise impossible story. I know very well that if anyone else has communicated this relationship to me, I should treat it as a frenzy of insanity. In addition, the singular nature of animals will make everyone elusive, even if I was thought to be able to convince my relatives to start. Then what is the purpose? Who can arrest a creature that can scale the protruding side of Mount Salevi? These thoughts determine me, and I am determined to remain silent.
When I entered my father's house, it was about five in the morning. I told the servants not to disturb the family and went to the library to participate in their usual wake-up time.
Six years passed, passing by in a dream, but leaving an indelible mark, I stood where I hugged my father for the last time before going to Ingolstadt. Respected parents! He still leaves it to me. I stared at the picture of my mother on the mantelpiece. This is a historical subject, drawn according to my father's wishes, representing the desperate pain of Caroline Beaufort, kneeling on the coffin of the dead father. Her clothes were crude and her cheeks were pale. But there is an atmosphere of dignity and beauty that hardly allows sympathy. Below this picture is a miniature of William. When I looked at it, my tears flowed out. When I was so engaged, Ernest entered: he heard my arrival and quickly welcomed me: "Welcome, my dearest Victor," he said. "Ah! I hope you come three months ago and you will find that all of us are happy and happy. You come to us now to share the pain, which cannot be alleviated; but I hope that your presence will make our Father is resurrected, and father seems to be sunk in his misfortune. Your persuasion will induce poor Elizabeth to stop the accusations of vanity and torturing herself. —Poor William! He is our treasure and our pride!"
Tears flowed from my brother's eyes. A deadly pain enveloped my frame. Before, I just imagined how pitiful my desolate home was. The reality has come to me, this is a new disaster, and it is equally terrible. I tried to calm Ernest down; I asked about my father in more detail, and here I named my cousin.
Ernest said: "The most important thing is that she needs comfort. She accused herself of causing my brother's death, which made her very painful. But now that the murderer has been discovered,"
"The murderer found out! God! How is this possible? Who can chase him? It's impossible; people might as well try to chase the wind, or use straw to restrict mountain streams. I also saw him. He was free last night!"
"I don't know what you mean," my brother said in surprise. "But for us, the discovery we made made us more painful. At first no one would believe it. Even with all the evidence, Elizabeth will not be Persuade. Indeed, who would believe that Justin Moritz, who is so amiable and loves the whole family, suddenly became so capable, so terrifying, so appalling?
"! Poor poor girl, is she the defendant? But this is wrong. Everyone knows; no one believes it, Ernest?"
"At first, no one did it; but several situations appeared that almost forced us to strengthen our conviction. Her own behavior was so chaotic that it increased the evidence of facts. I am worried that there is no doubt about it. But today she will be tried. Then you will hear everything."
Then he said that on the morning when poor William was found murdered, Justin became ill and was kept in her bed for a few days. During this time, a servant happened to check the clothes she wore on the night of the murder, and found a picture of my mother in her pocket, which was considered the temptation of the murderer. The servant immediately showed it to others, who did not want to say anything to any family, and went to the magistrate. Justin was arrested after being disbanded. After being accused of this fact, the poor girl confirmed her suspicion in great confusion.
This is a strange story, but it did not shake my faith. I replied seriously: "You are all wrong; I know the murderer. Justin, poor, good Justin, innocent."
At that moment, my father entered. His face left a deep impression on me, but he tried his best to welcome me. After we exchanged greetings of condolences, it would have brought about other topics besides disaster, and Ernest did not shout: "God, Dad! Victor said that he knew who the murderer of poor William was.
My father replied: "Unfortunately, we did the same, because in fact I would rather never know anything than to find myself so depraved and ungrateful for things I value so much."
"My dear father, you misunderstood; Justin is innocent."
"If she is God, God forbids her to suffer. She will be tried today. I sincerely hope that she will be acquitted."
This sentence calmed me down. I firmly believe that Justin and everyone are not guilty of this murder. Therefore, I am not worried that any circumstantial evidence can be presented, which is sufficient to convict her. My story is not a publicly announced story. Vulgar people will regard its astonishing horror as crazy. Is there anyone besides my creator, unless my creativity convinces me, otherwise I have revealed to the world the existence of a living presumption and a monument to ignorance?
Elizabeth joined us soon. Since the last time I saw her, time has changed her. It endows her with a beauty that transcends her childish years. It has the same frankness, the same vitality, but it is associated with a more sensitive and rational expression. She welcomed me with the greatest enthusiasm. She said: "My dear cousin, your arrival gives me hope. You may find some means to prove my poor innocence Justin. Alas! If she is found guilty, who is safe? I must be like herself. Relying on her innocence the same. Our misfortune is a double difficulty for us. Not only did we lose that lovely dear boy, but the poor girl I sincerely love will be destroyed by a worse fate. If she Condemned, I will never know happiness again. But she will not, I believe she will not.
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