Nothing appeared on it, as a denoting sign of humanity, but one pale hand, holding the black drapery together, and relieved against it in almost ghastly contrast under the cold light of the moon.
Vague remembrances of the awful superstitions of his nation's ancient worship, hurried over the memory of the young Goth, at the first moment of his discovery of the ghost-like occupant of the hall.

As he stood in fixed attention before the motionless figure, it soon began to be endowed with the same strange influence over his will, that the lonely house had already exerted.

He advanced slowly towards the crouching form.
It never stirred at the noise of his approach.

The pale hand still held the mantle over the compressed figure, with the same rigid immobility of grasp.

Brave as he was, Hermanric shuddered as he bent down and touched the bloodless, icy fingers.