Think you there can be two
wives in the grave? No--no--no; one--one--one--only one."
Frances dropped her head into the lap of her sister, and wept in agony.
"Do you shed tears, sweet angel?" continued Sarah, soothingly. "Then
heaven is not exempt from grief. But where is Henry? He was executed,
and he must be here too; perhaps they will come together. Oh! how joyful
will be the meeting!"
Frances sprang on her feet, and paced the apartment. The eye of Sarah
followed her in childish admiration of her beauty.
"You look like my sister; but all good and lovely spirits are alike.
Tell me, were you ever married? Did you ever let a stranger steal your
affections from father, and brother, and sister? If not, poor wretch, I
pity you, although you may be in heaven."
"Sarah--peace, peace--I implore you to be silent," shrieked Frances,
rushing to her bed, "or you will kill me at your feet."
Another dreadful crash shook the building to its center. It was the
falling of the roof, and the flames threw their light abroad, so as to
make objects visible around the cottage, through the windows of the
room. Frances flew to one of them, and saw the confused group that was
collected on the lawn. Among them were her aunt and Isabella, pointing
with distraction to the fiery edifice, and apparently urging the
dragoons to enter it.
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