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. She wondered if the second part would overcome his objections? Several times the words had rushed to her tongue, to find her tongue paralysed. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend. “Who killed her husband?” “Go and nurse him, missus!” “Murderess!” Anna looked from left to right. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. ” “There is great deal more,” she answered coldly. He was almost paralyzed with nervousness and desire. "Help! help!" "You call in vain," returned Kneebone.
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