Two Life-Paths

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Excerpt from Two Life-Paths: A Romance It was a fine, bright winter day. The sun, reflected by the snow in thousands of sparkling brilliants, gave a festive appearance to the streets and squares, surrounding the tops of the tall trees with a dazzling halo. Sleighs, with smiling dames and gay cavaliers, were rushing in every direction, and under the harmonious tinkling of silver bells the spirited horses yet more proudly curved their noble necks. Lusty boys were hastening toward the city gates for the enjoyment of skating in the open country, while smaller ones were noisily snowballing each other in the streets. Everywhere joyousness, pleasure, exultation, all cheeks were reddened by either joy or cold, everywhere the sun had thawed the ice-flowers from the windows, in order to send into the dwellings the first though faint greetings of approaching spring. But through the windows of yonder stately house its rays cannot pass, for those windows are heavily curtained, and they who are within are awaiting, not spring with its new life, but death with its everlasting rest. The curtains are closely drawn, and in a still dark room is being played the last act of a tragedy which we call life, rich in the deepest woe, of which man is constantly the struggling and succumbing hero, destiny the port. In that still chamber penetrates no sound from the outer world, and, if the sad silence is momentarily interrupted, it is by the low groans of a young woman who there, upon silken cushions and a bed of down, feels the hard pressure of life heavy upon a breast which is soon to be covered with lighter earth. Perhaps life has been less light to her, and she has bowed her head under the burden of the world - bowed, until it was crushed. Not physical illness alone hath blanched that youthful brow - not approaching death hath kissed the smile from those pale lips. Life had long since prepared the way for sickness and death, had stolen the smile from the lips and the freshness from the cheeks, and death had sent his brother, grief, in advance, to strip the leaves from this flower, that it might be the more easily plucked. Slowly, slowly, had grief plucked off leaf after leaf until nothing remained but a broken heart, prepared for the cold embrace of death as that of its last and only friend. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully, any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.