The blood rushed from his mouth; a slight convulsion shook him; he fell back. They found her—they, the shameful ones, when they slunk presently from their ghastly ambush—clinging insensible to the lifeless body.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A POSTHUMOUS EXISTENCE
“And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun,
And she forgot the blue above the trees,
And she forgot the dells where waters run,
And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze;
She had no knowledge when the day was done,
And the new moon she saw not: but in peace
Hung over her sweet basil ever more,
And moistened it with tears unto the core.”