She had fallen forward on her knees, with her arms flung across the bed, speechless and motionless, in such sort that I speedily grew possessed with an awful fear lest she should be dead.

As it was, I could do nothing but call her name and try to raise the dear head that hung so heavily down.

Remember that I was at this time not eight years old, and had never before seen a fainting fit, so that if a sight so like to death bewildered me it was but natural.

How long the fit lasted I cannot say, but at last, to my great joy, my mother raised her head and looked at me with a puzzled stare that gradually froze again to horror as recollection came back.
"Oh, Jasper, what could it be ?--what could it be ?" Alas! I knew not, and yet seemed to know too well.

The cry still rang in my ears and clamoured at my heart; while all the time a dull sense told me that it must have been a dream, and a dull desire bade me believe it so.
"Jasper, tell me--it cannot have been--" She stopped as our eyes met, and the terrible suspicion grew and mastered us, numbing, freezing, paralysing the life within us.
I tried to answer, but turned my head away.