"My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. Again silence. An avid reader in many genres, I love to share books that have given me much pleasure. I am the cause of his ill-usage. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. Slowly descending Snow Hill, the train passed on its way, attended by the same stunning vociferations, cheers, yells, and outcries, which had accompanied it on starting from Newgate. Concealed among the trees that edged the estate grounds, the watchers paused. She looked at him mournfully.
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