He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. " The lemons had enormously thick skins and were only mildly acidulous—sweet lemons, they were called; and one found them delicious by dipping the slices in sugar. He made the universe on those lines. It was dated from the House of Commons on the previous day. “Just look that through, will you. 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. Wood, furiously.
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