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Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn, 1810-1865

"Mary Barton"

The mouth opened mechanically to
receive more, and gradually she revived. She sat up and looked
round; and recollecting all, fell down again in weak and passive
despair. Her little child crawled to her, and wiped with its
fingers the thick-coming tears which she now had strength to weep.
It was now high time to attend to the man. He lay on straw, so damp
and mouldy, no dog would have chosen it in preference to flags; over
it was a piece of sacking, coming next to his worn skeleton of a
body; above him was mustered every article of clothing that could be
spared by mother or children this bitter weather; and in addition to
his own, these might have given as much warmth as one blanket, could
they have been kept on him; but as he restlessly tossed to and fro,
they fell off and left him shivering in spite of the burning heat of
his skin. Every now and then he started up in his naked madness,
looking like the prophet of woe in the fearful plague-picture; but
he soon fell again in exhaustion, and Barton found he must be
closely watched, lest in these falls he should injure himself
against the hard brick floor.


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