She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. Destruction everywhere marked its course. “I will tell you when to stop. " There was a pause. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. 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 must repeat,” Sir John said, “that I much regret disturbing you at such an unseemly hour. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. . “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued.
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