Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. gutenberg. You will agree with me when you have heard what I have to say. 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. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. And―and he wanted to help you. To lose was death, quickly and mercilessly delivered.
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