was summoned in haste confessed that his science was vain. She lingered for some hours, and then quietly passed away. On a table beside her there was an empty phial which contained opium and a sealed manuscript addressed to her son and only to be opened by him on the eve of his marriage.
It was written in a high flown, flowery style, full of high falutin and it contained the drift of what I have related to you.
Two days afterwards, unwept and, uncared for, she was buried according to her wishes, in the robe she wore, together with the—all but withered—snow-drops which her dress, her couch and her room had been strewn with.
Though she imagined herself to be growing plain, stout and dowdy, people still remember her as a frail, fairy-like, etherial beauty. As for the cause of her suicide, it was attributed to the grief she had felt at her husband's faithlessness.
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