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Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn, 1810-1865

"Mary Barton"

It was not to be found.
She tried to brighten her perceptions, and felt again, and took out
the little articles her pocket contained, her empty purse, her
pocket-handkerchief, and such little things, but it was not there.
In fact, she had dropped it when, so eager to embark, she had pulled
out her purse to reckon up her money.
She did not know this, of course. She only knew it was gone.
It added but little to the despair that was creeping over her. But
she tried a little more to help herself, though every minute her
mind became more cloudy. She strove to remember where Will had
lodged, but she could not; name, street, everything had passed away,
and it did not signify; better she were lost than found.
She sat down quietly on the top step of the landing, and gazed down
into the dark, dank water below. Once or twice a spectral thought
loomed among the shadows of her brain; a wonder whether beneath that
cold dismal surface there would not be rest from the troubles of
earth. But she could not hold an idea before her for two
consecutive moments; and she forgot what she thought about before
she could act upon it.


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