Explore "Married or Single? , Volume III" by B. M. Croker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Alas! what was this that she beheld, and that turned every vein in her body to ice? It was death for the first time. There before her, in the small cot, lay a little still figure, with closed eyes and folded hands, a lily between them; the bed around it -- yes, it was now _it_ -- already strewn with white flowers, on which the morning dew still lingered. Who strews white flowers on the living? Yes, Harry was dead! There was no look of suffering now on the little brow; he seemed as if he was sleeping; his soft fair curls fell naturally over his forehead; his long dark lashes swept his cheek. He _might_ be asleep! But why was he so still? No breath, no gentle rising and falling disturb his tiny crossed hands, so lately full of life and mischief -- and now!
With a low cry Madeline fell upon her knees beside the child, and laid her lips on his. How cold they were! But, no he could not be dead! "Harry, Harry," she whispered. "Harry, I have come. Open your eyes, darling, for me, only _one_ moment, and look at me, or I shall go _mad_!"