The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (1.1894)

148

Two Sketches

back, whfch was glued to the ivory, and formed a hinge. It feil
open ; and his gasp had been insecure ; and the jerk as it opened
was enough. It slipped from his fingers, and dropped with a crash
upon the hearthstone.

The sound went through him like a physical pain. He sank
back into his chair, and closed his eyes. His heart was beating as
after a mighty physical exertion. He knew vaguely that a calamity
had befallen him; he could vaguely imagine the splinters of
shattered glass at his feet. But his physical prostration was so
great as to obliterate, to neutralise, emotion. He feit very cold.
He feit that he was being hurried along with terrible speed through
darkness and cold air. There was the continuous roar of rapid
motion in his ears, a faint, dizzy bewilderment[in his head. He
feit that he was trying to catch hold of things, to stop his progress,
but his hands closed upon emptiness; that he was trying to call
out for help, but he could make no sound. On—on—on, he was
deing whirled through some immeasurable abyss of space.
*****

"Ah, yes, he's dead, quite dead," the doctor said. " He has
been dead some hours. He must have passed away peacefully
sitting here in his chair."

" Poor gentleman," said the porter's wife. " And a broken
looking-glass beside him. Oh, it's a sure sign, a broken looking-
glass."