The doctor looked at him, and then turned away and bit his lip:
‘What are you going to do for her?’ demanded Kornicker, after a pause: ‘have you medicine with you?’
‘She requires nothing now,’ said the doctor, in a tone scarcely above a whisper. ‘She’s dead!’
Kornicker hastily took the light, and bent over her. He remained thus for a long time; and when he rose, his eyes were filled with tears.
‘I’m sorry I left her,’ said he, in a vain effort to speak in his usual tones. ‘It was very hard that she should die alone. I acted for the best; but d—n it, I’m always wrong!’
He dashed his fist across his face, walked to the window and looked out.
At that moment the door opened, and Harson entered, his face somewhat attempered in its joyous expression; and close behind followed the house-keeper with a large basket.
‘How is she?’ asked he, in a subdued tone.
Kornicker made no reply, but looked resolutely out of the window, and snuffed profusely. It would not have been manly to show that the large tears were coursing down his cheeks. Harson threw an inquiring glance at the doctor, who answered by a shake of the head: ‘She was dead when we got here.’
Harson went to the bed, and put back the long tresses from her face. There was much in that face to sadden the old man’s heart. Had it been that of an old person, of one who had lived out her time, and had been gathered in, in due season, he would have thought less of it; but it was sad indeed to see one in the first blush of youth, scarcely more than a child, stricken down and dying in such a place, and so desolate.