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Wollstonecraft, Mary, 1759-1797

"Mary A Fiction"

Every event of her life rushed across her mind with wonderful
rapidity--yet all was still--fate had given the finishing stroke. She
sat till midnight.--Then rose in a phrensy, went into the apartment, and
desired those who watched the body to retire.
She knelt by the bed side;--an enthusiastic devotion overcame the
dictates of despair.--She prayed most ardently to be supported, and
dedicated herself to the service of that Being into whose hands, she had
committed the spirit she almost adored--again--and again,--she prayed
wildly--and fervently--but attempting to touch the lifeless hand--her
head swum--she sunk--


CHAP. XXX.

Three months after, her only friend, the mother of her lost Henry began
to be alarmed, at observing her altered appearance; and made her own
health a pretext for travelling. These complaints roused Mary out of her
torpid state; she imagined a new duty now forced her to exert herself--a
duty love made sacred!--
They went to Bath, from that to Bristol; but the latter place they
quickly left; the sight of the sick that resort there, they neither of
them could bear.


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