We have played at a little mild lovemaking again. ‘You said it. You’ll never see the light of day as long as you live. ‘And certainly I wish that Joan will come with us. Anything that might stir the sense of love And God has mocked me through it all. You came to me, you wished me to speak to Anna. 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. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. "Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. Like the flaws of an old marble. . 1.
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