Melusine whirled. 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. It’s just that I want to say. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. Talked about his years, his position and his constituents, and always sneaked off back to his hotel just when the fun was going to begin. The father would be all steel. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. ’ She drew a heavy breath. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed.
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