Page:Tragical history of Jane Arnold (2).pdf/12

 reflected on the oaths and protestations of Henry; his kind assurances at their last interview on whiehwhich [sic] he called on every holy power to witness his faith to her his chosen wife; and defied the malieemalice [sic] of the whole world to part them. Thus in fluetuatiugfluctuating [sic] hope and fear, the hapless girl passed away her melaneholymelancholy [sic] hour till the first dawn of the grey-eyed morn was announeedannounced [sic] by the shrill clarion of Chantieleer. ReeolleetionRecollection [sic] flashed on her mind; she chided herself for giving way to suehsuch [sic] sorrowful retrospections; and, fearful of being discovered by any of the family not yet undressed, she hastily divested herself of her apparel, and retired to bed. Worn out by the fatigue of the preceding day, and the sorrows of her heart, she soon fell into a heavy slumber.-But sleep did not calm the passiouspassions [sic] of her mind; her dreams were horrific. One time she was hurled from a precipice, then dashed into the foaming and tempestuous ocean, and sinking amidst the billows, eallingcalling [sic] in vain to Henry for aid. She awoke, overwhelmed with terror. It was not yet time to rise-again shoshe [sic] slept; again the ocean presented itself to her view; a swift sailing vessel appeared almost to fly before the wind; Henry was on the deck, his bosom streaming with gore, from a self-inflicted wound, as appeared by a poignard that he grasped in his right hand. Borne by an invincible guide, she flew towards him. A sudden storm arosoarose [sic]; the ship was furiously eombatedcombated [sic] by the elements. Henry gave a deep groan, and expired in her arms. The vessel now appeared to sink rapidly, and the horrors of death were around her. Just at the moment of this painful visionary trouble, her sister Annette entered the ehamberchamber [sic], and awoke the sleeping sufferer. But she was too much