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. But a doll that rolled its eyes and had flaxen hair! Except for the manual labour—there had been natives to fetch and carry—she and Cosette were sisters in loneliness. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it. ‘As for what to do, I wonder if young Charvill would be worth a visit. I am betrothed to Captain Roding, which is why you can’t have him, you see. “Lucy Albert. ” Her voice trembled with suppressed passion. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. “This is what comes of being a young woman up to date.
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