plunging it over her shoulder into the bosom of the person that spoke.
"Ah, me, I am slain!" cried Matilda, sinking. "Good heaven, receive
my soul!"
"Savage, inhuman
monster, what hast thou done!" cried Theodore,
rushing on him, and wrenching his
dagger from him.
"Stop, stop thy
impious hand!" cried Matilda; "it is my father!"
Manfred, waking as from a
trance, beat his breast, twisted his hands
in his locks, and endeavoured to recover his
dagger from Theodore to
despatch himself. Theodore,
scarce less distracted, and only
mastering the
transports of his grief to
assist Matilda, had now by
his cries drawn some of the monks to his aid. While part of them
endeavoured, in concert with the afflicted Theodore, to stop the blood
of the dying Princess, the rest prevented Manfred from laying violent
hands on himself.
Matilda, resigning herself
patiently to her fate, acknowledged with
looks of
grateful love the zeal of Theodore. Yet oft as her faintness
would permit her speech its way, she begged the
assistants to comfort
her father. Jerome, by this time, had
learnt the fatal news, and
reached the church. His looks seemed to
reproach Theodore, but
turning to Manfred, he said,
"Now,
tyrant! behold the
completion of woe fulfilled on thy
impiousand
devoted head! The blood of Alfonso cried to heaven for vengeance;
and heaven has permitted its altar to be polluted by assassination,
that thou mightest shed thy own blood at the foot of that Prince's
sepulchre!"
"Cruel man!" cried Matilda, "to
aggravate the woes of a parent; may
heaven bless my father, and
forgive him as I do! My Lord, my gracious
Sire, dost thou
forgive thy child? Indeed, I came not
hither to meet
Theodore. I found him praying at this tomb, w
hither my mother sent me
to intercede for thee, for her - dearest father, bless your child, and
say you
forgive her."
"Forgive thee! Murderous
monster!" cried Manfred, "can assassins
forgive? I took thee for Isabella; but heaven directed my
bloody hand
to the heart of my child. Oh, Matilda! - I cannot utter it - canst
thou
forgive the
blindness of my rage?"
"I can, I do; and may heaven
confirm it!" said Matilda; "but while I
have life to ask it - oh! my mother! what will she feel? Will you
comfort her, my Lord? Will you not put her away? Indeed she loves
you! Oh, I am faint! bear me to the castle. Can I live to have her
close my eyes?"
Theodore and the monks
besought her
earnestly to suffer herself to be
borne into the
convent; but her instances were so pressing to be
carried to the castle, that placing her on a
litter, they conveyed her
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thither as she requested. Theodore, supporting her head with his arm,
and
hanging over her in an agony of
despairing love, still endeavoured
to
inspire her with hopes of life. Jerome, on the other side,
comforted her with discourses of heaven, and
holding a crucifix before
her, which she bathed with
innocent tears, prepared her for her
passage to
immortality. Manfred, plunged in the deepest affliction,
followed the
litter in despair.
Ere they reached the castle, Hippolita, informed of the dreadful
catastrophe, had flown to meet her murdered child; but when she saw
the afflicted
procession, the mightiness of her grief deprived her of
her senses, and she fell
lifeless to the earth in a swoon. Isabella
and Frederic, who attended her, were overwhelmed in almost equal
sorrow. Matilda alone seemed
insensible to her own situation: every
thought was lost in
tenderness for her mother.
Ordering the
litter to stop, as soon as Hippolita was brought to
herself, she asked for her father. He approached,
unable to speak.
Matilda, seizing his hand and her mother's, locked them in her own,