Of my despair that stirr’d it! She is gone!
[She throws herself on the body.
Gonzalez enters wounded.
Elm. (rising as he approaches.) I must not now be scorn’d!—No, not a look.
A whisper of reproach! Behold my woe!—
Thou canst not scorn me now!
Gon. Hast thou heard all?
Elm. Thy daughter on my bosom laid her head,
And pass’d away to rest! Behold her there,
Even such as death hath made her![283]