Now do you see?’ Melusine frowned. ’ Fury was in her face. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. “You were booked of course. In the rush of commuters he did not see her boarding his train. 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. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you.
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