“Isabella,” said Hippolita, “thou art conscious to this unhappy secret, whatever it is. Speak!”
“What!” cried Matilda, “have I so forfeited my mother’s love, that she will not permit me even to speak my own guilt? Oh, wretched, wretched Matilda!”
“Thou art too cruel,” said Isabella to Hippolita; “canst thou behold this anguish of a virtuous mind, and not commiserate it?”
“Not pity my child!” said Hippolita, catching Matilda in her arms. “Oh, I know she is good; she is all virtue, all tenderness and duty. I do forgive thee, my excellent, my only hope!”
The princesses then revealed to Hippolita their mutual inclination for Theodore, and the purpose of Isabella to resign him to Matilda. Hippolita blamed their imprudence, and showed them the improbability that either father would consent to bestow his heiress on so poor a man, though nobly born. Some comfort it gave her to find their passion of so recent a date, and that Theodore had had but little cause to suspect it in either. She strictly enjoined them to avoid all correspondence with him. This Matilda fervently promised; but Isabella, who flattered herself that she meant no more than to promote his union with her friend, could not determine to avoid him, and made no reply.
“I will go to the convent,” said Hippolita, “and order new masses to be said for a deliverance from these calamities.”
“Oh, my mother,” said Matilda, “you mean to quit us: you mean to take sanctuary, and to give my father an opportunity of pursuing his fatal intentions. Alas! on my knees I supplicate you to forbear: will you leave me a prey to Frederic? I will follow you to the convent.”
“Be at peace, my child,” said Hippolita; “I will return instantly. I will never abandon thee, until I know it is the will of Heaven, and for thy benefit.”
“Do not deceive me,” said Matilda. “I will not marry Frederic until thou commandest it. Alas! what will become of me?”
“Why that exclamation?” said Hippolita. “I have promised thee to return.”