Originally Posted by Horace Walpole
"Oh! wound not my agonising soul!" said Hippolita; "thou never
couldst offend me--Alas! she faints! help! help!"
"I would say something more," said Matilda, struggling, "but it
cannot be--Isabella--Theodore--for my sake--Oh!--" she expired.
Isabella and her women tore Hippolita from the corse; but Theodore
threatened destruction to all who attempted to remove him from it.
He printed a thousand kisses on her clay-cold hands, and uttered
every expression that despairing love could dictate.