He is now at the last gasp--rattles in the throat--has a new convulsion
every minute almost! What horror is he in! His eyes look like
breath-stained glass! They roll ghastly no more; are quite set; his face
distorted, and drawn out, by his sinking jaws, and erected staring
eyebrows, with his lengthened furrowed forehead, to double its usual
length, as it seems. It is not, it cannot be the face of Belton, thy
Belton, and my Belton, whom we have beheld with so much delight over the
social bottle, comparing notes, that one day may be brought against us,
and make us groan, as they very lately did him--that is to say, while he
had strength to groan; for now his voice is not to be heard; all inward,
lost; not so much as speaking by his eyes; yet, strange! how can it be?
the bed rocking under him like a cradle.