"What is it, Hero? Are you hungry?"
He barked, ran to the easy chair, rubbed his nose against the pastor's hand, came back whining to Regina, and finally returning to the chair, sat down, bent his head to the pastor's feet and uttered a prolonged and dismal howl.
An undefinable horror made the girl spring toward the chair.
The sleeper had not moved, and stooping over she put her hand on his forehead. The cold damp touch terrified her, and with a cry of "Hannah! Oh, Hannah!" she darted into the library, and seized the lamp. By its light held close to the quiet figure, she saw that the eyes were closed as in slumber, and the lips half parted, as though in dreaming he had smiled; but the features were rigid, the hands stiff and cold, and she could feel no flutter in the wrists or temples.
"Oh, my God! he is dead!" screamed Hannah, wringing her hands, and uttering a succession of shrieks, while like a statue of despair the girl stood staring almost vacantly at the white placid face of the dead. At last, shuddering from head to foot, she exclaimed:
"Run for Dr. Melville! Run, Hannah! you can go faster now than I could."
"What is the use? He is dead! stone dead!"
"Perhaps not—he may revive. Oh, Hannah! why don't you go?"
"Leave you alone in the house—with a corpse?"
"Run—run! Tell the doctor to hurry. He may do something."