So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. Arrived beneath an aperture in the broken roof, he was preparing to pass through it, when he observed a little heap of tiles upon the floor, which appeared to have been recently dislodged. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it. " "Impossible," replied Sheppard, in the same tone. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia.
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