Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. I did not know that you had even 244 started writing a symphony. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. 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. “Wonderful man!” said Ann Veronica, reassured, and stroking his cheek with her finger. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to stand at bay.
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