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‘Oh, peste. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. Annabel, I was lying. Wild's name. \"You cannot know how frustrated I have become. Manning think?” said her aunt. END OF THE FIRST EPOCH. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. ’ She frowned suddenly. 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. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. How long have you been playing?” Lucy breathed an internal sigh of relief. .
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