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" In this temper, it will naturally be imagined, that Mrs. "Why did I not keep the money when I had it?" returned Blueskin, angrily. See paragraph 1. The farmer had become obsessed with her and asked her to marry. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. 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. Nor Jacques. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it. One studies Nature in order not to be blindly ruled by her. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Hilary. “I will go,” he said.
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