consoling presence she had thought to feel upholding her at this
moment made no sign. She was alone in the world, bereft of her one
supporting ideal, alone beside the dead body of one who was a stranger
alike to her sight and her emotions; alone at night in an isolation as
unexpected as it was terrible to her, and which chilled her senses as
if it had come to oppress her forever.

The shadows which she had not noticed before, the dark corners of the
tomb, the motionless gleam of the moon as it fell through the open
door, and laid silently on the floor like light stretched dead, the
low rustle of the wind as if Nature restlessly moved in her sleep,
came suddenly upon her, and brought her--fear. She held her breath as
she stilled her sobs to realize that she alone lived in this city of
the Dead. The chill of fright crept along the surface of her body,
which still vibrated with her storm of grief.

She seemed paralyzed. She dared not move.

Every sense rallied to her ears in dread.

Suddenly she heard her name breathed: "Margaret!"

It was whispered in a voice once so familiar to her ears, a voice that
used to say, "Madge."

She raised herself on her elbow.

She dared not answer.

She hardly dared breathe.