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. . . And such skirts as Ann Veronica had had when she entered the valley of Saas were safely packed away in the hotel, and she wore a leather belt and loose knickerbockers and puttees—a costume that suited the fine, long lines of her limbs far better than any feminine walking-dress could do. ” Annabel rose and followed her sister from the room. But this time she wanted nothing for herself: she wanted something for Hoddy—success. But it’s as you say. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. “Cut her throat!” Sebastian snapped. I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. " "And why not?" asked Kneebone, eagerly. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful.
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