O,
what a terrible scene! Genius in ruins, pleading for that which can never
be regained when once lost. Hear him call piteously his father's name; see
him clutch his fingers as he shrieks for his sister--his only sister, the
twin of his soul--now weeping for him in his distant home! See! his hands
are lifted to heaven; he prays--how wildly!--for mercy, while the hot fever
rushes through his veins. The friend beside him is weeping in despair; and
the awe-stricken sons of the forest move silently away, leaving the living
and the dying alone together. _(The judge, overcome with emotion, falls
into a chair, while the rest of the company seem awe-struck, as Marion's
voice grows softer and more sorrowful in its_ _tones, yet remains
distinct and clear.)_ It is evening now, the great, white moon, is
coming up, and her beams fall gently upon his forehead. He moves not; for
his eyes are set in their sockets, and their once piercing glance is dim.
In vain his companion whispers the name of father and sister; death is
there to dull the pulse, to dim the eye, and to deafen the ear.
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