dragging her through the crowd.--"My father! save him! he saved thy
child!--Walter! supplicate him--he is kind." She turned her eyes to the
scaffold as she uttered these words, and beheld the form of Spenser
writhing in the air, and convulsed with the last mortal agony. A fearful
shriek burst from her heart, and she sank senseless in the arms of those
who bore her.

Isabel survived this event more than a twelvemonth; but her reason had
fled and her health was so shattered that final recovery was hopeless.
She took scarcely any food, refused all intercourse with her former
friends, and even with her father, and would sit silent and motionless
for days together. One thing only soothed her mind, or afforded her any
gratification; and this, as she was an experienced navigator of the
river, her friends indulged her in--to sail from the city of Hereford to
that spot on which she used to meet her lover. This she did constantly
every evening; but when she landed, and had waited a short time, her
shrieks and cries were pitiable. This practice one evening proved fatal.
Instead of steering to the usual landing-place, a little above the city,
she entered a part of the river where the current is unusually strong.
The rapidity of its waves mastered and overturned the frail bark in which
she sailed, and the unfortunate Isabel sunk to rise no more!

The tragic nature of these events made an impression on the popular mind
which two centuries did not efface. The spirit of Isabel was still said
to sail every night from Hereford to Northbrigg, to meet her lover; and
the beach across the river which this unearthly traveller pursued, was
long distinguished by the name of "The Spectre's Voyage."

_Neele's Romance of History._