"Heart of Darkness"
by Joseph Conrad

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     "I have been very happy -- very fortunate -- very proud," she went on. "Too fortunate. Too happy for a little while. And now I am unhappy for -- for life."

     She stood up; her fair hair seemed to catch all the remaining light in a glimmer of gold. I rose, too.

     "And of all this," she went on mournfully, "of all his promise, and of all his greatness, of his generous mind, of his noble heart, nothing remains -- nothing but a memory. You and I--"

     "We shall always remember him," I said hastily.


     "No!" she cried. "It is impossible that all this should be lost -- that such a life should be sacrificed to leave nothing -- but sorrow. You know what vast plans he had. I knew of them, too -- I could not perhaps understand -- but others knew of them. Something must remain. His words, at least, have not died."

     "His words will remain," I said.

     "And his example," she whispered to herself. "Men looked up to him -- his goodness shone in every act. His example --"

     "True," I said; "his example, too. Yes, his example. I forgot that."

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