Her countenance was as pale as death,--her eyes, from which no tears would flow, as is ever the case with the deepest distress, were glassy and lustreless,--her luxuriant hair hung in dishevelled masses over her shoulders,--and her attire was soiled and disordered.
"You desire to speak with me," she continued, advancing towards the couch of the wounded man.
"It must be alone," he replied.
Viviana glanced at Catesby, who reluctantly arose, and closed the door after him.

"We _are_ alone now," she said.
"Water! water!" gasped the sufferer, "or I perish." His request being complied with, he continued in a low solemn voice, "Viviana, you have lost the dearest friend you had on earth, and you will soon lose one who, if he had been spared, would have endeavoured, as far as he could, to repair the loss.

I say not this to aggravate your distress, but to prove the sincerity of my regard.

Let me conjure you, with my dying breath, not to wed Mr.Catesby." "Fear it not," replied Viviana.

"I would rather endure death than consent to do so." "Be upon your guard against him, then," continued Fawkes.