"Live!" said she.

"Have we not sworn to die with each other?
Your curse does not release me from my oath, and when you descend into the grave, Jane Douglas will stand upon its brink, to wail and weep until you make a little place for her there below; until she has softened your heart and you take her again, as your Geraldine, into your grave.

Oh, Henry! in the grave, I no longer wear the face of Jane Douglas--that hated face, which I would tear with my nails.

In the grave, I am Geraldine again.
There I may again lie close to your heart, and again you will say to me: 'I love not your face and your external form! I love you yourself; I love your heart and mind; and that can never change; and can never be otherwise!'" "Silence!" said he, roughly; "silence, if you do not want me to run mad! Cast not my own words in my face.

They defile me, for falsehood has desecrated and trodden them in the mire.