I am dying more young, more beautiful,
more beloved than you; I am hurried to an untimely end. God of
heaven! die I did I say die? I cannot, will not--Mother, save
your child!--Brother, help me, save me!"
"My daughter, my darling child!" cried the despairing mother,
wringing her hands and weeping bitterly.
"My dearest sister Anne, what can I do for you?" inquired the
young man, whose stern features were melted into mere
womanish tenderness.
"Daughter," interrupted the priest, " God is good; he can and
will forgive you if you heartily turn to him, with a sincere desire
to atone for your fault."
All this took place in less time than it has taken in the
recital. My brother-in-law seemed completely deprived of his
usual self-possession by this burst of frightful raving; his
feet appeared rooted to the floor of the chamber; his colour
changed from white to red, and a cold perspiration covered his
brows. For my own part, I was moved beyond description; but
my faculties seemed spell-bound, and when I strove to speak, my
tongue cleaved to my mouth.
The delirium of poor Anne continued for some time to find utterance,
either by convulsive gesticulation, half-uttered expressions, and,
occasionally, loud and vehement imprecations. At length, quite
exhausted with her violence, which required all the efforts of
her brother to subdue by positive force, she sunk into a state
of insensibility.
Pages:
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580