I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. " The elderly domestic bowed, took up the case, and retired. Clean water. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand. ‘And for you, monsieur le major, it will be well if you do not make me a shock like this again. “Well, no,” she answered. 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. He had not had time to aim the pistol.
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