repeated Stargarde gently,
“Just o’er the narrow flood,
A band of holy angels
Came from the throne of God.
They bore him on their pinions
Safe o’er the dashing foam,
And joined him in his triumph;
‘Deliverance will come.’”
Her voice died away, and Zilla sank into a chair while Camperdown stepped softly to the bedside. There was nothing that he could do for his patient; the shadow of death was already upon her face.
Yet she lay quietly, as quietly as a child about to fall asleep, and giving no sign of distress or emotion except in the hurried and labored rise and fall of her chest.