His thoughts went back as far as he could remember
anything, and every act of his life was clearly recalled. How mean
some of them now appeared; how thoughtless, indifferent, or selfish he
had been in others. Latterly how he had been filled with a sense of
his own importance, how he had worked and schemed for a little
popularity, and now who would regret him, or give his memory more than
a passing thought?
Thorpe Walling would say: "Served him right for throwing me over, as he
did," and others would agree with him. Even Mr. Hepburn, who had
doubtless given him a chance merely because he was his guardian, would
easily find a better man to put in his place. Some cousins whom he had
never seen nor cared to know would rejoice on coming into possession of
his little property; and so, on the whole, his disappearance would
cause more of satisfaction than regret. Most bitter of all was the
thought that he would never have the opportunity of changing, or at
least of trying to change, this state of affairs, since he had
doubtless looked at the sun for the last time, and the blackness of an
endless night was about to enfold him.
Had he really seen his last ray of sunlight and hope? No; it could not
be. There must be a gleam left. The sun could not have set yet. He
lifted his head. There was no sun to be seen. With a cry of terror he
sprang to his feet, and, from the slight elevation thus gained, once
more beheld the mighty orb of day, and life, and promise, crowning with
a splendour infinitely beyond anything of this earth, the distant
shore-line that he had striven so stoutly to gain.
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