The two women went running to the bed; but when Miss Broad showed an inclination to lean over and to touch the silent man, the other, as if fearful of what actual contact might involve, caught her by the dress.
'No, no; take care!'
Even Miss Broad shrank a little back; for Miss Casata lay between.
'Move the bed!'
The suggestion was Miss Bewicke's. In a moment it had been put into force. The bed was wheeled more into the centre of the room, so as to permit of passage between it and the wall, and presently the girl was at her lover's side. She knelt and looked, but still she did not touch him. No tears were in her eyes; she seemed very calm; but her face was white, and she was speechless. On her face there was a look which was past wonder, past pain, past fear, as if she did not understand what it was which was in front of her. Miss Bewicke stood at her side, also looking; her dominant expression seemed sheer bewilderment.
He also lay on his back. The bedclothes were withdrawn, so that his face was seen down to the chin. No marks of violence were visible. His expression was one of complete quiescence. His eyes were closed, as if he slept; but if he did, it was very soundly, for there was nothing to show that he breathed.
Suddenly Miss Broad found her voice, or the ghost of it. Her lips did not move, and the words came thinly from her throat.
'Is he dead?'
The other did not answer; but, leaning over, she drew the bedclothes more from off him, and she whispered,--
'Guy!' They waited, but he did not answer. She called again, 'Guy!'