"Promise me, Rodolph, she shall never know the unnatural conduct of her wretched but repentant mother," murmured the countess, in almost inarticulate accents.
The sound of a carriage rolling over the paved court was distinctly heard, but the countess had already ceased to recognise what was passing around her, her words became more indistinct and incoherent. Rodolph bent over her with anxious looks; he saw the rising films of death veil those beautiful eyes, and the exquisite features grow sharp and rigid beneath the touch of the king of terrors.
"Forgive me,—my child! Let me—see—my—child! Pardon—at least! And—after—death—the honours—due—to my—rank—" she faintly said, and these were the last articulate words she uttered,—the one, fixed, dominant passion of her life mingled, even in her last moments, with the sincere repentance she expressed and, doubtless, felt. Just at that awful moment Murphy entered.
"My lord," cried he, "the Princess Marie is arrived!"
"Let her not enter this sad apartment. Desire Seyton to bring the clergyman hither." Then pointing to Sarah, who was slowly sinking into her last moments, Rodolph added, "Heaven has refused her the gratification of seeing her child!"
Shortly after that the Countess Sarah Macgregor breathed her last.