’ Melusine frowned, placing her hand on the letter lying on the table. She had called the police on them anonymously. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. ” “I had to,” she repeated. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely. ’ It was a wait of several minutes while Melusine chafed. 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.
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