If you are not strong enough to walk, I will carry
you."
She rose slowly and painfully, as if her limbs were stiff with cold; but
she could stand, and walk with his arm round her; and so these two moved
slowly along the deserted passages toward the room where the corpse lay.
There was nothing shocking in its appearance now. All the traces of
murder had been washed away, and they had arranged the silky chestnut
hair till it concealed the wound, and fell in smooth waves over the
white forehead. That sweet calm which will sometimes descend on the face
of the dead, even when their end has been violent--the sad _Alpen-gluth_
that comes only when the sun has set--was there in all its beauty. Save
that the features were somewhat sharper than in life, there was nothing
to mar their pure classical outline. It was well, indeed, that Guy held
her back two hours ago. If Isabel had looked on them then, I believe she
would have gone mad with terror, if not with sorrow. It matters much,
the expression of a face, when it is sure to mingle in our dreams for
many after years.
Guy led her up to the bedside, and left the room as she sank down on her
knees. He remained outside the closed door, for he thought she might
need help if her strength failed suddenly; and I joined him there.
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