Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

118 WOTTON REINFREDtwelve miles distance, and two roads led to it ; ofwhich our traveller preferred the horseway throughthe mountains, as shorter and more solitary ; for inthis mood the waste stillness of such regions wasfriendly to him. For the rest, the mansion beingempty, save of servants, no unessential delay wascalled for : in a little while, Eadbury Park with itsgroves and lawns had disappeared, and Wotton wasagain mounting the uplands in vain eagerness to reachwhat he half knew could little avail him. The decliningsun shone softlyon him through the foliageof the glens; the brooks gushed loud and cheerfulby his side ; and often from some open eminence hiseye rested on stern blue ranges, or caught here andthere the ghtter of a lake or streamlet in the distance.But his heart was heavy and alone as in old days ; thedreamy hope which had mingled with so much inquietudein the morning, seemed to die away andretire into littleness, as the scene of it retired ; and heasked himself :'What art thou to this man Walter,or what is he to thee, that thou shouldst either shrinkfrom him or seek him ? Dost thou still love, still lookfor blessedness, outcast as thou art? Art not thoupoor and helpless ;are not the gates of human activityinexorably shut against thee ?Have I an aim that isnot mad, a hope of peace but in the chambers ofdeath ! thou bright form, why lingerest thou stillin the desert of my life ? Vanish, fair treacherousvision, vanish and mock me not.If I have been unwise