Nor did one of them so much as dream in 's sleep
of suspecting Jessamine Hynds!
And then--oh, God! oh, God--Richard, my Richard, that I
Lov'd more than mine own Soul, died! As a Candle is snuff'd
out, so went Richard that was so comely and so strong. I had
only thought to Punish him, Make them all Suffer to Pay me
for mine own Suffering. Never, never, had I meant that
Richard should Die. 'Twas a Thunder-bolt upon my Head, 'twas
Lightning splitting my Heart.
'Twas I brought the News of Richard's death to my Uncle
James. Was sitting in the Library pretending for to read.
Then came I in, and clos'd the Door, and said:
"_Richard is dead._" How the man star'd! Had a ruddy face,
very Handsome. Before my eyes it pal'd and pinch'd. I said
again: "Don't you understand? _Richard is dead._"
As a tree falls, he fell. I knew his Time was come, and
gently I rais'd him. He claw'd at his Breast and mouth'd
"Richard--Freeman--Pocket-book--The Key, the Key!" Look'd at
me piteously. 'Twould melt one's Heart to see his Eyes.
I did thrust my hand into the breast of his blue
Broad-cloath Coat, and draw forth his Pocket-Book.
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