Through Hamilton's heavy brain an idea forced itself, and finally took
possession. Angelica had not stood in that little group. He opened his
eyes, half expecting that which he saw--Angelica leaning over the
foot-board, her face gray and shrunken, her eyes full of astonishment
and horror.
"Are you going to die--to die?" she asked him.
"Yes," said Hamilton. He was too exhausted to console or counsel
submission.
"To die!" she repeated. "To die!" She reiterated the words until her
voice died away in a mumble. Hamilton was insensible for the moment to
the physical torments which were sending out their criers again, and
watched her changed face with an apprehension, which, mercifully, his
mind was too confused by pain and laudanum to formulate. Angelica
suddenly gripped the foot-board with such force that the bed shook; her
eyes expanded with horror only, and she cowered as if a whip cracked
above her neck. Then she straightened herself, laughed aloud, and ran
out of the room. Hamilton, at the moment, was in the throes of an
excruciating spasm, and was spared this final agony in his harsh and
untimely death.
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