Linen cloths, steeped in a solution of chlorate of lime, were closely wound round the body--a rude couch was placed in the inside of the carriage, which was supported by the two seats--and the carriage itself was darkened.
These preparations concluded--and having parted with Doctor Pormont---whose attentions, in spite of his freezing manner, had been very great--the brothers commenced their painful task.
George knelt at the head of the corpse--ejaculated one short fervent prayer--and then, assisted by his brother, bore it in his arms to the vehicle.
The Italian peasants, with rare delicacy, witnessed the scene from the windows of the inn, but did not intrude their presence.
The body was placed crosswise in the carriage. George sat next the corpse. Delmé sat opposite, regarding his brother with anxious eye.
Most distressing was that silent journey! It made an impression on Sir Henry's mind, that no after events could ever efface; and yet it had already been his lot, to witness many scenes of horror, and ride over fields of blood.
We have said it was a silent journey. George's despair was too deep for words.
The first motion of the carriage affected the position of the corpse. George put one arm round it, and kept it immoveable. Sometimes, his scalding tears would fall on that cold face, whose outline yet preserved its beautiful roundness.
It appeared to Sir Henry, that he had never seen life and death, so closely and painfully contrasted. There sat his brother, in the full energies of manhood and despair; his features convulsed--his frame quivering--his sobs frequent--his pulse quick and disturbed.
There lay extended his mistress--cold--colourless--silent--unimpassioned. There was life in the breeze that played on her raven tresses--grim death was enthroned on the face those tresses swept.