’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. She wanted him so badly it hurt. 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. "Mr. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. He meditated, and began a new paragraph.
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