’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. 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. “You may call anytime. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. You are restless, aggressive, critical with all the crude unthinking criticism of youth. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street.
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