He did not believe in his sorrow.

It was a bad dream.

He did not know when she was gone.

But Mr.
Brand, whom Mrs.Hackit had sent for before twelve o'clock, thinking that Mr.Barton might probably need his help, now came up to him, and said,--'She feels no more pain now.

Come, my dear sir, come with me.' 'She isn't _dead_ ?' shrieked the poor desolate man, struggling to shake off Mr.Brand, who had taken him by the arm.