Читать книгу On the Brink of a Chasm: A record of plot and passion онлайн

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“I will—try.”

“Come this way.” Tarbot opened the door. The two passed beyond the screen. The room was no longer dark—it was lit up with brilliance.

Pelham and Nurse Ives were both standing by the bed. When Pelham saw Barbara he uttered a cry. Nurse Ives looked at the doctor and nodded to him to come forward.

In the bed lay a little figure perfectly motionless, and as if carved in marble.

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Barbara tried to hurry forward, but Tarbot pushed her aside. He bent over the child and examined him carefully. The boy was absolutely unconscious and icy cold. He looked exactly like one dead. Was he dead? Barbara’s heart beat so hard that she fancied it must be heard. She had never seen death before. Did it look like that?—was there always that absence of all movement, that queer gray look on the face? Already it seemed to Barbara that she scarcely knew little Piers.

Tarbot did not speak for a moment; then he turned to the nurse.

“How long has the boy been in this state?”