She hoped desperately that Mrs. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. "I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly. "I know the hand—ha! my friend! and I have murdered him! And my sister was thus nobly, thus illustriously wedded. While the girl kept the patient from dwelling upon his misfortunes, whatever these were, he himself would have to keep the girl from brooding over hers. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. I had left Paris. Still, I'm glad she didn't accept my invitation to join us. 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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