There was nothing but a bed of glowing embers, over which the white ashes gathered fast. I was alone, with only my dog for company.
III
ASHES—SIGNIFYING DESOLATION
After all, thought I, ashes follow blaze inevitably as death follows life. Misery treads on the heels of joy; anguish rides swift after pleasure.
“Come to me again, Carlo,” said I to my dog; and I patted him fondly once more, but now only by the light of the dying embers.
It is very little pleasure one takes in fondling brute favorites; but it is a pleasure that when it passes, leaves no void. It is only a little alleviating redundance in your solitary heart-life which, if lost, another can be supplied.
But if your heart, not solitary—not quieting its humors with mere love of chase, or dog—not repressing, year after year, its earnest yearnings after something better and more spiritual—has fairly linked itself by bonds strong as life, to another heart—is the casting off easy then?
Is it then only a little heart-redundancy cut off, which the next bright sunset will fill up?