On horror's head
Horrors accumulate.-Thompson.
An icy sweat of terror bathed Sybil's form. She tried to cry out, and did utter a low half-stifled scream. But the cold fingers of the ghastly creature closed tightly upon hers, and a thin, hollow voice murmured:
"Hush; don't you make a noise; don't be frightened. I can't hurt you. I'm chilled