"Then I presume you've not been arrested?" "I have not," answered Wood firmly. 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. Now you can understand why I have been obliged to——” “Yes, yes, I understand that,” Courtlaw interrupted. Sheppard, a matron offered to conduct him to her cell. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. Ramage—about the forty pounds. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. The Bed Room 400 XIX.
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