The Heroine

by Eaton Stannard Barrett

'Come,' said she, taking my hand, and leading me out of the arbour. 'Well, was not that glorious? Now I shall die content.'

'Yes,' said I, 'after having first killed your William. Have I not explained all about the letter; and how can you now treat him so cruelly?'

'The letter,' said she. 'Ay, true, the letter. Let me consider a moment. He thought it was mine, do you say?'

'He did indeed, Mary; and yet you will not be friends with him.'

'But you see he won't follow me,' said she. 'He would have followed me once. Is he following me?'

'He cannot,' answered I. 'The poor young man is lying on the ground, and sobbing ready to break his heart.'

Mary stopped.

'Shall I call him?' said I.

'Why now,' said she, 'how can I prevent you?'

'William!' cried I. 'Mary calls you.'