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Mosses From An Old Manse | Nathaniel Hawthorne | |
Roger Malvin's Burial |
Page 13 of 13 |
"How is this, Reuben? Have you slain the deer and fallen asleep over him?" exclaimed Dorcas, laughing cheerfully, on her first slight observation of his posture and appearance. He stirred not, neither did he turn his eyes towards her; and a cold, shuddering fear, indefinite in its source and object, began to creep into her blood. She now perceived that her husband's face was ghastly pale, and his features were rigid, as if incapable of assuming any other expression than the strong despair which had hardened upon them. He gave not the slightest evidence that he was aware of her approach. "For the love of Heaven, Reuben, speak to me!" cried Dorcas; and the strange sound of her own voice affrighted her even more than the dead silence. Her husband started, stared into her face, drew her to the front of the rock, and pointed with his finger. Oh, there lay the boy, asleep, but dreamless, upon the fallen forest leaves! His cheek rested upon his arm--his curled locks were thrown back from his brow--his limbs were slightly relaxed. Had a sudden weariness overcome the youthful hunter? Would his mother's voice arouse him? She knew that it was death. "This broad rock is the gravestone of your near kindred, Dorcas," said her husband. "Your tears will fall at once over your father and your son." |
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Mosses From An Old Manse Nathaniel Hawthorne |
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