"Very well, very well indeed!" said Lumley, rubbing his hands; and
turning to his letters, his attention was drawn to one with an enormous
seal, marked "Private and confidential." He knew before he opened it
that it contained the offer of the appointment alluded to in the
newspaper. He read, and rose exultantly; passing through the French
windows, he joined Lady Vargrave and Evelyn on the lawn, and, as he
smiled on the mother and caressed the child, the scene and the group
made a pleasant picture of English domestic happiness.

Here ends the First Portion of this work: it ends in the view that
bounds us when we look on the practical world with the outward
unspiritual eye--and see life that dissatisfies justice,--for life is so
seen but in fragments. The influence of fate seems so small on the man
who, in erring, but errs as the egotist, and shapes out of ill some use
that can profit himself. But Fate hangs a shadow so vast on the heart
that errs but in venturing and knows only in others the sources of
sorrow and joy.

Go alone, O Maltravers, unfriendly, remote--thy present a waste, and thy
past life a ruin, go forth to the future!--Go, Ferrers, light
cynic--with the crowd take thy way,--complacent, elated,--no cloud upon
conscience, for thou seest but sunshine on fortune.--Go forth to the
future!

Human life is compared to the circle.--Is the simile just? All lines
that are drawn from the centre to touch the circumference, by the law of
the circle, are equal. But the lines that are drawn from the heart of
the man to the verge of his destiny--do they equal each other?--Alas!
some seem so brief, and some lengthen on as for ever.