" "There was Father," suggested Angelina gently. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written. I knew him in spite of his dress. 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. " The mortal agony behind those eyes! And all the while he had probably loved his child. He resumed his listening. You don’t have to live forever to understand that. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. org 1.
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