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she looked round for her mother—Life of my soul! I am here: cried Hippolita; think not I will quit thee! Oh! you are too good; said Matilda—but weep not for me, my mother! I am going where sorrow never dwells—Isabella, thou hast loved me; wot thou not supply my fondness to this dear, dear woman?—indeed I am faint! Oh! my child! my child! said Hippolita in a flood of tears, can I not withhold thee a moment!—It will not be; said Matilda—commend me to heaven—where is my father? forgive him, dearest mother—forgive him my death; it was an error—Oh! I had forgotten—dearest mother, I vowed never to see Theodore more—perhaps that has drawn down this calamity—but it was not intentional—can you pardon me?—Oh! wound not my agonizing soul! said Hippolita; thou never couldst offend me—alas! she faints! help! help!—I would say something more, said Matilda struggling, but it wonnot be—Isabella—Theodore—for my sake—Oh!—she expired. Isabella and her wo-men
