And thus indeed it was. Entering the apartment, the surgeon prepared to examine the wound, but in a moment he called to Isabella, saying:
"Lady, this individual is one of thine own sex! and, I am very sorry to say, is mortally wounded."
"A woman!"
"Yes, lady; see, she would speak to you; she beckons you near."
"Lady, I need not ask what that professional man says. I know too well by my own feelings that I must die, indeed that I am dying!"
"O, say not so; perhaps there may yet be hopes," said Isabella, tenderly.
"Nay, there is none; indeed it is better, far better as it is."
"Why, do you wish to die?" asked Isabella, almost shrinking from her.
"Yes. There is nought left for me to live for, and it is sweet to die, too, for him, for him I have so dearly, so truly loved!"
"Of whom do you speak?"