Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. " "I'll bring you an armful this afternoon. White, who had risen to greet her, proceeded with a formal, and from Anna’s point of view, a wholly unnecessary round of introductions. It isn’t the same thing. ” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. ” He said. “There is something which I must say to you. ” She stopped. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened.
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