The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. Oh God! my limbs fail me. 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. Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. He shot at me at the ‘Unusual,’ and the magistrates bound him over to keep the peace. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. It was everyone's favorite meal. You make yourself charming for help.
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