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But, in the ocean of faces where every fierce and furious

expression was in vivid life, there were two groups of

faces--each seven in number--so fixedly contrasting with the

rest, that never did sea roll which bore more memorable wrecks

with it. Seven faces of prisoners, suddenly released by the storm

that had burst their tomb, were carried high overhead: all

scared, all lost, all wondering and amazed, as if the Last Day

were come, and those who rejoiced around them were lost spirits.

Other seven faces there were, carried higher, seven dead faces,

whose drooping eyelids and half-seen eyes awaited the Last Day.

Impassive faces, yet with a suspended--not an

abolished--expression on them; faces, rather, in a fearful pause,

as having yet to raise the dropped lids of the eyes, and bear

witness with the bloodless lips, "THOU DIDST IT!"