"Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn't expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. "Mr. 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. Well, what about it?" "I accept. His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure. I came to see you on my own account. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. ‘They cannot be worse than mine in English, monsieur. ’ ‘No, for that would have had to be in Melusine’s possession to start with.
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