"Heaven now support me!"
"Is this worthy of the name you bear Flora? I should have thought, and I did hope, that woman's pride would have supported you."
"Let me implore you," added Marchdale, "to summon indignation to your aid, Miss Bannerworth."
"Charles—Charles—Charles!" she again exclaimed, as she wrung her hands despairingly.
"Flora, if anything could add a sting to my already irritated feelings," said Henry, "this conduct of yours would."
"Henry—brother, what mean you? Are you mad?"
"Are you, Flora?"
"God, I wish now that I was."
"You have read those letters, and yet you call upon the name of him who wrote them with frantic tenderness."
"Yes, yes," she cried; "frantic tenderness is the word. It is with frantic tenderness I call upon his name, and ever will.—Charles! Charles!—dear Charles!"