Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier. 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. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe. I thought you might like to see. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. The van started with a jerk and rumbled on its way. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. ’ She counted off on her fingers. .
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