There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. 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. I've got to know why. I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. Damn! I’ve splashed. ” Sir John was speechless. Yet, stay! There is one thing I wish you to do. Unless he has dealings with the devil, he could never have done this alone. You see, I’m selfish. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter.
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