It was a sound such as a wounded beast might utter.

There is a picture I have seen of Blake's, showing the soul of a strong wicked man leaving his body at death.

The spirit is flying out through the window with awful staring eyes, aghast at the desolation into which it is going.

If in the agony of dissolution such a lost soul could utter a cry, it would, I think, sound like the wail which I heard from the violin that night.
Instantly all was in absolute stillness.

The passages were silent and ghostly in the faint light of my candle; but as I reached the bottom of the stairs I heard the sound of other footsteps, and Mr.Gaskell met me.