This dreaded effect, however, was more
to be apprehended by a general apathy and failing of the system, than by
any violent and intelligible symptom.
The pulses still vibrated, but it was heavily, and like the irregular and
faltering evolutions of the mill, which the dying breeze is ceasing to
fan. The pallid countenance was fixed in its expression of anguish. Color
there was none, even the lips resembling the unnatural character which is
given by images of wax. Her limbs, like her features, were immovable; and
yet there was, at moments, a working of the latter, which would seem to
imply not only consciousness, but vivid and painful recollections of the
realities of her situation.
"This surpasseth my art," said Doctor Ergot, raising himself from a long
and silent examination of the pulse; "there is a mystery in the
construction of the body, which human knowledge hath not yet unveiled. The
currents of existence are sometimes frozen in an incomprehensible manner,
and this I conceive to be a case that would confound the most learned of
our art, even in the oldest countries of the earth.
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