”
“Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. 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. ”
“You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone. And the less “anything” happened the better. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the
profound abyss. Gianfrancesco ran from the
room, tearing at his hair. Beyond was a narrow
bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 07-07-2024 05:29:02