Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. 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. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly. I hope to see the day, when not Southwark alone, but London itself shall become one Mint,—when all men shall be debtors, and none creditors,— when imprisonment for debt shall be utterly abolished,—- when highwayrobbery shall be accounted a pleasant pastime, and forgery an accomplishment, —when Tyburn and its gibbets shall be overthrown,—capital punishments discontinued,—Newgate, Ludgate, the Gatehouse, and the Compters razed to the ground,—Bridewell and Clerkenwell destroyed,—the Fleet, the King's Bench, and the Marshalsea remembered only by name! But, in the mean time, as that day may possibly be farther off than I anticipate, we are bound to make the most of the present. "Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. Tell me, Sir," he added, advancing towards the knight, "tell me has this man spoken falsely?— Tell me my mother is alive, and do what you please with me. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. It doesn’t seem to matter. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. She was very pretty. " Thames was about to reply, but a glance from Wood checked him. ‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. You’ve got me. ‘You would have a history of my life? Very well.
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