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Unformatted text preview: e thing was invisible, yet all around me, sustaining me. "Julien, I beg you. Do not push this further." I stood there, trying not to pass out from weakness, and I saw the stacks of books on the grass, the old pictures, paintings from Saint- Domingue, old portraits of ancestors back to the beginning. I saw the account books and ledgers and sheaves of papers from my mother's old study, the foolishness she'd written. And the letters from Edinburgh, all tied and in bundles! And my books, aye, one was left, and this one she threw into the fire as I called out to her! I reached out with all my power to stop it. She swung round as if caught by a hook, the book still in her fingers, and as she stared at me, dazzled and confused by the power that had stayed her hand, the wind rose and caught the book and sent it flip-flopping and whirling into the flames! I gasped for breath. My curses had no syllables. The worst kind of curses. All went black. When I awoke I was in my room. I was in bed, and Richard, my dear young friend, was with me. An...
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- Spring '10