“One hardly knows—all the time. “Thank goodness!” said that retreating aspect, “that’s said and over. " "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. 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. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. "I was in the right, you see, father," observed Thames, smiling; "Jack has done his task. The troops had kept a large space clear around the gallows. We can’t. He will be hanged—hanged—hanged. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. ’ He sighed elaborately. All right. Afterwards we started for déjeuner in a motor.
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