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 cess! replied Isabella; it is not thy life he aims at—it is to separate himself from thee! to divorce thee! to—to divorce me! to divorce my mother! cried Hippolita and Matilda at once—yes; said Isabella; and to complete his crime, he meditates—I cannot speak it! What can surpass what thou hast already uttered? said Matilda. Hippolita was silent. Grief choaked her speech; and the recollection of Manfred's late ambiguous discourses confirmed what she heard. Excellent, dear Lady! Madam! Mother! cried Isabella, flinging herself at Hippolita's feet in a transport of passion; trust me, believe me, I will die a thousand deaths sooner than consent to injure you, than yield to so odious—oh!—This is too much! cried Hippolita: What crimes does one crime suggest! rise, dear Isabella; I do not doubt your virtue. Oh! Matilda, this stroke is too heavy for thee! weep not, my child; and not a murmur, I charge thee. Remember, he is thy father still!—but you are my mother too; said Matilda fervently;