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.