Burn your palette and your easel. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. Very well. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. I’ll mention it. There's nothing so sad in this world as an old fool," she added. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. I’ve just finished my first symphony!” He said proudly. She sat perfectly still, however. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully.
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