“Nurse, show this lady to cot No. 7.”
Swiftly the tall figure of the visitor glided down the room, and placing her hand on the arm of the nurse, she said huskily,—
“Where is the man who has just died? Quick! do not keep me in suspense.”
“There, to the right; shall I uncover the face?”
Under the blue check coverlet that was spread smoothly over the cot, the stiff outlines of a human form were clearly defined; and, when the nurse stooped, the stranger put out one arm and held him back, while her whole frame trembled violently.
“Stop! be good enough to leave me.”
The attendant withdrew a few yards, and curiously watched the queenly woman, who stood motionless, with her fingers tightly interlaced.
She was dressed in a gray suit of some shining fabric, and a long gossamer veil of the same hue hung over her features. After a few seconds she swept back the veil, and, as she bent forward, a stray sunbeam dipped through the closed shutters, and flashed across a white horror-stricken face, crowned with clustering braids of silver hair.
She shut her eyes an instant, grasped the coverlet, and drew it down; then caught her breath, and looked at the dead.
It was a young, boyish face, horribly swollen and distorted, and coarse red locks were matted around his brow and temples.