Page:Ethel Churchill 3.pdf/264

262 of the morning brought its own glad tone to the spirits of the early walkers in the park. The first that entered were going on their way with a song, when the singing voice suddenly changed to a cry of horror, for the dead lay before their feet. His eyes, wild and staring—there had been no friendly hand to close them; his features convulsed with fearful agony. Sir George Kingston was stretched a corpse! He—the rich, the luxurious, the flattered—had died by the common pathway like a dog!