"Alas, the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling and decay!
And those who prize the paltry things,
More trifling still than they.
And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep;
A shade that follows wealth and fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep?"
When Annie Evalyn recovered consciousness, Sheldon was bending over her, bathing her temples with cologne. As the memory of the recent scene rushed over her, her cheeks flushed, and she glanced timidly in his face. It was cold—stern, she fancied.
"Annie," said he, in a measured tone, "you are better now. I will leave you for to-night, and to-morrow shall hope for an explanation of what, I must confess, seems strange and mysterious to me at present. Good-night!" and he turned to leave the room.