A
slanting ray of the moon, coming between one of the window curtains and
the window, fell upon the face, and showed it white and waxen; the lips,
still red, parted to the gleaming teeth; and the eyes not quite covered
by the lids. One beautiful round arm curved above her head, and some of
her soft brown hair rested in the little open palm. The other stretched
down toward the centre of the bed, as if fearlessly to invite the touch
of those weird things with which imagination peoples the solemn
night--which the wakeful eye, in the still, small hours, sees moving in
the darker corners, or passing swiftly by the bedside, or hovering in
the air, wearing the semblance of one's dead friends, or filling large
portions of the room with some formless presence of unutterable
malignity and woe.
It was only sleep to which the moon thus gave the pale polish of death.
The gentle murmur of a childish breath broke the silence. The heavy
bedclothes slowly rose and fell with the mysterious pulsations of warm
life beneath. At intervals, a shudder shook the little figure of the
sleeper, her breath came louder and quicker, and her arms moved with
sudden starts.
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