She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. Capes made a quick movement as if to bite that aggressive digit, but it withdrew to Ann Veronica’s side. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. 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. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. ” Ann Veronica said nothing in answer to that. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. Very soon she would be able to forget it. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. You are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success.
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