" "Stay!" said Mrs. “Thank you,” she said coolly. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided. 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. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. In the biological laboratory that was their invincible tone. Last time— you made me feel snubbed. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. Manning,” she said, “I warned you not to idealize me. " "My negligence, Mr. "I wanted you to know. . "Don't fire," cried the latter.
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