His lips parted, his head sank slowly, slowly, a sigh came forth, so full of meaning, so like a tale-bearer of some long hidden sorrow, that I feared for the worst.
My limbs stiffened.
I could feel the blood lessen its pace in my veins and go groping along as if uncertain of its way.
I pressed the tips of my fingers to my cheeks. They were cold as polished marble.
I essayed to speak. The words would not come.
At last I made a violent effort—
“Bulger!” I whispered.
Poor dog, he slept at my feet.
I struggled to escape the spell for one brief moment, that I might stoop to give my faithful friend a farewell caress.
Hist!