Beneath that arch of unmoved and eternal
lights; some, so remote from this little earth that the learned tell us it is
doubtful whether their rays have even yet discovered it, as a point in space
where anything is suffered or done: the shadows of the night were broad and
black. All through the cold and restless interval, until dawn, they once more
whispered in the ears of Mr. Jarvis Lorry--sitting opposite the buried man who
had been dug out, and wondering what subtle powers were for ever lost to him,
and what were capable of restoration--the old inquiry:
`I hope you care to be recalled to life?'
And the old answer:
`I can't say.'
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