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‘You have not the right. ‘When she lies outright, she thinks about it. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!”
“Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the
contents. Sheppard, as I
told you, is in Bedlam, an incurable maniac; while her son is in the New Prison,
whence he will only be removed to Newgate and Tyburn. 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. They drove around town that night in his Buick
convertible. Later, she
understood his reasons; and it had now become habit. She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they
plied her with a dozen requests. During all their long comradeship he had
never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 12-07-2024 14:48:35