Page:Romance & Reality 1.pdf/273

People talk—and wisely, too—of the folly of presentiments; but let the thoughts speak their secret, will they assert their disbelief? Our nature has many mysteries—the moral and physical world are strangely allied; the weight on the air presages the hurricane—the darkness on the heaven the tempest—why may not destiny have its signs, and the heart its portents, and the nameless sadness that oppresses the spirits forbode the coming sorrow? But Emily only thought of hers as a weakness—she strove to shake it off. The lamps now grew brilliant—the houses gathered into streets—while imagination, as usual, took flight before realities—and they arrived at home, gaily discussing the chances of to-morrow's ball. Once in her own room, fatigue and sentiment were terribly at variance—and sleep is a true pleasure, if one had not to get up in the morning. Do not tell me of the happiness of life, when every day begins with a struggle and a sacrifice. To get up in the morning, both in the enjoyment it resigns and the resolution it requires, is an act of heroism.