CHAPTER XXVII. A LINK IN THE CHAIN
I sprang to my feet. The darkness was instinct with nameless terrors. The air was filled with nameless shapes. A spiritual horror surrounded me, and I felt that I must reach the light or cry out. But before I had covered the distance to the door, it was flung open and Corson stood on the threshold; and at the sight of him my courage returned and my shaken nerves grew firm. At the darkness he wavered and cried:
“What's the matter here?”
“She is dead.”
“Rest her sowl! It's a fearsome dark hole to be in, sor.”
I shuddered as I stood beside him, and brought the lamp from the bracket in the hall.
Mother Borton lay back staring affrightedly at the mystic beings who had come for her, but settled into peace as I closed her eyes and composed her limbs.
“She was a rare old bird,” said Corson when I had done, “but there was some good in her, after all.”
“She has been a good friend to me,” I said, and we called a servant from below and left the gruesome room to his guardianship.