As she lay, to all seeming, still and insensible before me, her beautiful hair fell heavily upon her back and across her arm, and her whole attitude denoted the very abandonment of grief.

A short convulsive shudder which slightly shook her frame alone gave evidence of life, except when a sob, barely audible in the death-like silence, escaped her.
I knelt silently down beside her, and gently withdrawing her hand, placed it within mine.

A dreadful feeling of self-condemnation shot through me as I felt the gentle pressure of her taper fingers, which rested without a struggle in my grasp.

My tears fell hot and fast upon that pale hand, as I bent in sadness over it, unable to utter a word.

A rush of conflicting thoughts passed through my brain, and I knew not what to do.