"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. "The Dutchman was right, after all. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. “Ding-dong-Diedermayer is here, Lucy. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. We have a very nice set of young people here too just at present, and you would soon make some friends.
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