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Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn, 1810-1865

"Mary Barton"

Was na it a good thing they did na keep me from
Liverpool? But I would come; I knew I could do thee good, bless
thee, my lad. But thou'rt very white, and all of a tremble."
He kissed her again and again, but looking round as if searching for
some one he could not find, the first words he uttered were still--
"Where is she?"

XXXIII. REQUIESCAT IN PACE.
"Fear no more the heat o' th' sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy wordly task hast done,
Home art gone and ta'en thy wages.
--Cymbeline.
"While day and night can bring delight,
Or nature aught of pleasure give;
While joys above my mind can move,
For thee, and thee alone I live:
"When that grim foe of joy below
Comes in between to make us part,
The iron hand that breaks our band,
It breaks my bliss--it breaks my heart."
--BURNS.
She was where no words of peace, no soothing hopeful tidings could
reach her; in the ghastly spectral world of delirium.


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