With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. . 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. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up. " "And by whom were they both destroyed?" demanded his sister, raising herself by a painful effort, and regarding him with a searching glance. But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. ” “And you?” Annabel exclaimed. “That’s the point. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. .
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