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Not
tonight
,
Jip
!
Not
tonight
!
He
comes
very
slowly
back
to
me
,
licks
my
hand
,
and
lifts
his
dim
eyes
to
my
face
.
Oh
,
Jip
!
It
may
be
,
never
again
!
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He
lies
down
at
my
feet
,
stretches
himself
out
as
if
to
sleep
,
and
with
a
plaintive
cry
,
is
dead
.
Oh
,
Agnes
!
Look
,
look
,
here
!
-
That
face
,
so
full
of
pity
,
and
of
grief
,
that
rain
of
tears
,
that
awful
mute
appeal
to
me
,
that
solemn
hand
upraised
towards
Heaven
!
Agnes
?
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It
is
over
.
Darkness
comes
before
my
eyes
;
and
,
for
a
time
,
all
things
are
blotted
out
of
my
remembrance
.
This
is
not
the
time
at
which
I
am
to
enter
on
the
state
of
my
mind
beneath
its
load
of
sorrow
.
I
came
to
think
that
the
Future
was
walled
up
before
me
,
that
the
energy
and
action
of
my
life
were
at
an
end
,
that
I
never
could
find
any
refuge
but
in
the
grave
.
I
came
to
think
so
,
I
say
,
but
not
in
the
first
shock
of
my
grief
.
It
slowly
grew
to
that
.
If
the
events
I
go
on
to
relate
,
had
not
thickened
around
me
,
in
the
beginning
to
confuse
,
and
in
the
end
to
augment
,
my
affliction
,
it
is
possible
(
though
I
think
not
probable
)
,
that
I
might
have
fallen
at
once
into
this
condition
.
As
it
was
,
an
interval
occurred
before
I
fully
knew
my
own
distress
;
an
interval
,
in
which
I
even
supposed
that
its
sharpest
pangs
were
past
;
and
when
my
mind
could
soothe
itself
by
resting
on
all
that
was
most
innocent
and
beautiful
,
in
the
tender
story
that
was
closed
for
ever
.
When
it
was
first
proposed
that
I
should
go
abroad
,
or
how
it
came
to
be
agreed
among
us
that
I
was
to
seek
the
restoration
of
my
peace
in
change
and
travel
,
I
do
not
,
even
now
,
distinctly
know
.
The
spirit
of
Agnes
so
pervaded
all
we
thought
,
and
said
,
and
did
,
in
that
time
of
sorrow
,
that
I
assume
I
may
refer
the
project
to
her
influence
.
But
her
influence
was
so
quiet
that
I
know
no
more
.