Give me content. Oh! give me love!
'How is it to end? What is to become of me? Can nothing rescue me? Is
there no mode of relief, no place of succour, no quarter of refuge, no
hope of salvation? I cannot right myself, and there is an end of it.
Society, society, society! I owe thee much; and perhaps in working in
thy service, those feelings might be developed which I am now convinced
are the only source of happiness; but I am plunged too deep in the quag.
I have no impulse, no call. I know not how it is, but my energies, good
and evil, seem alike vanishing. There stares that fellow at my carriage!
God! willingly would I break the stones upon the road for a year, to
clear my mind of all the past!'
A carriage dashed by, and a lady bowed. It was Mrs. Dallington Vere.
The Duke had appointed his banker to dine with him, as not a moment must
be lost in preparing for the reception of his Brighton drafts. He was
also to receive, this evening, a complete report of all his affairs. The
first thing that struck his eye on his table was a packet from Sir Carte
Blanche. He opened it eagerly, stared, started, nearly shrieked.
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