He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears.
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