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His last actions were futile. I could not dream of loving you. ” Anna smiled very faintly. 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. “No,” she answered. ” He sat for a moment, absorbing. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand. But, perhaps Mr. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips.
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