“What do you mean?” Lucy asked. She pulled her hand away quickly. Lucy entered the room. 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. I have calculated my chances, you perceive. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ve had enough of it. ” “Why?” she asked. The quarry had passed out into the open sea. “But how is it all going to end?” said Mr. “Been sitting on the doorstep almost for two hours. She felt a cheat and a sneak to his unsuspecting retreating back. “It’s my fault.
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