int the dream of expectation. There is no region of
speculation beyond it--its horizon bounds his world--its present engulfs
his past and his future. In all other circumstances, it is true that--

Man never is, but always to be, blest;

but here the aphorism is falsified. In this brief hour, the lover is so
thoroughly "blest" as to have but one desire left--that it should last
forever! Clouds, surcharged with tears that will not flow, gather into
our eyes as we look back upon these memories.

What we both wanted was oblivion. We were anxious to forget every thing,
except the perilous delight we had borne, like a burning brand, out of
that dark struggle. We had the oblivion we desired--for a time. All
other considerations were absorbed in ourselves. The scenes and the
people with whom we had been mixed up, and the incidents that had driven
us out from among them, entered no more into our conversation than if
they had never existed. We felt that we had given up the old life, and
had begun a new one, and that an effort was necessary to strengthen
ourselves against any suggestions of pity or remorse that might point
toward the waste and ashes we had left behind us. We felt, too, that
those efforts hardened us; but people who harden themselves for each
other's sake against the rest of the world, have a great faith in their
own sensibility while the process of hardening is going on. They even
believe that the more callous they become, and the more completely they
isolate their sympathies, the more tenderness they are capable of
developing to each other. It is like people who bar up their doors and
windows to enjoy themselves by themselves, forgetting that all genial
and healthy elements and influences--light, sunshine, air--are diffusive
and universal.

I took precautions to avoid the danger of being tracked. I knew not what
I had to dread--what shapes of revenge or retribution might follow me;
but whether law or vengeance, it was equally necessary, at least while
blood on both sides was hot, to cut off all pursuit. Dismissing the
post-chaise outside Dover, we walked into the town, having sent our
luggage forward by a different conveyance. I urged upon Astraea the
necessity of avoiding public places at present--that we should not be
seen on the drive or the esplanade--that, in short, we ought to keep as
much is possible in obscurity. The color mounted into her cheeks as I
spoke to her, and heavy rolling clouds se