” “In Paris, I think,” Ennison answered. Mother and Son XI. 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. She had gladly lowered her eyes as she had been instructed to in front of the fine ladies and lords, as she was more interested in their clothing and fripperies than their faces. Directly he saw Anna he accosted her. ’ ‘Yes, she duped me finely,’ agreed Gerald. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. " In an angle of the Stone Hall was the Iron Hold, a chamber containing a vast assortment of fetters and handcuffs of all weights and sizes. . ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. But I'll never part with your irons. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. We two. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood.
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