despair

A despairing cry escaped the pale lips of Mercédès; the old man sank into a chair.

At last, about ten o’clock, and just as Dantès began to despair, steps were heard in the corridor, a key turned in the lock, the bolts creaked, the massy oaken door flew open, and a flood of light from two torches pervaded the apartment.

He did not even see the ocean, that terrible barrier against freedom, which the prisoners look upon with utter despair.

“Didn’t you know water would be the end of me?” asked the Witch, in a wailing, despairing voice.