“ Remove me! never, never! I lived but in her, and will expire with her.”
Matilda raised her eyes at her mother’s voice, but closed them again without speaking. Her sinking pulse and the damp coldness of her hand soon dispelled all hopes of recovery. Theodore followed the surgeons into the outer chamber, and heard them pronounce the fatal sentence with a transport equal to frenzy.
“ Since she cannot live mine,” cried he, “at least she shall be mine in death! Father! Jerome! will you not join our hands?” cried he to the Friar, who, with the Marquis, had accompanied the surgeons.
“ What means thy distracted rashness?” said Jerome. “Is this an hour for marriage?”
“ It is, it is,” cried Theodore. “Alas! there is no other!”
“ Young man, thou art too unadvised,” said Frederic. “Do
