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Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885

"Ramona"

What had happened?
Still there was no sound, no stir. The twilight was fast deepening;
not a breath of air moving. Gradually her bewildered senses and
faculties awoke from their long-dormant condition; she looked
around the room; even the walls seemed revivified; she clasped
her hands, and leaped from the bed. "Alessandro is not dead!" she
said aloud; and she laughed hysterically. "He is not dead!" she
repeated. "He is not dead! He is somewhere near!"
With quivering hands she dressed, and stole out of the house. After
the first few seconds she found herself strangely strong; she did
not tremble; her feet trod firm on the ground. "Oh, miracle!" she
thought, as she hastened down the garden-walk; "I am well again!
Alessandro is near!" So vivid was the impression, that when she
reached the willows and found the spot silent, vacant, as when she
had last sat there, hopeless, broken-hearted, she experienced a
revulsion of disappointment. "Not here!" she cried; "not here!" and
a swift fear shook her. "Am I mad? Is it this way, perhaps, people
lose their senses, when they are as I have been!"
But the young, strong blood was running swift in her veins.


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