What was his transport on
perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. Hearing the approach of the rider, Mr. I was not even sure whether it was
loaded. “Parmesan—take it away!”
He glanced at Ann Veronica’s face, and it seemed to him that she really was
exceptionally radiant. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother. 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. There stepped forth a tall brown man. "Is it
indeed you, or am I dreaming?"
"You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. I've been thinking about it ever since morning.
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This video was uploaded to nihaopei.com on 30-06-2024 22:39:52