Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

;WOTTON REINFRED 47him in his absence ? One sweetest possibility hedared not openly surmise to Bernard, scarcely even tohimself ;yet a light dawned upon him as in the duskyremoteness, and the figure of Jane Montagu cameforth in new beauty saddened over by inexpressiblelonging.At an early hour he retired to his apartment.Hiswindow fronted the sea, over which the moon waspeering from her couch of clouds in the far east, whilethe tide, swelling forth as if to meet her into everycreek, was murmuring hoarse and slow through themellow night.Soft vapours shrouded the other shorethe sea was ehipless, for the fisher barks were atanchor in their coves ; the moonbeam flickered on asolitude of waters. The thought of life and itsmysteries and vicissitudes came over Wotton'stroublous but solemn mind. He saw the images ofTime as if flitting so fair and transient through thenight of Eternity ;yet kind scenes crowded roundhim, and the earth with its stinted joys and man withhis marred destiny, seemed but the lovelier thatwerejweak and without continuance.theyThe picture wasin his hand, was already suspended round his neck.'Why dost thou remember her,' said he to himself,*when she is for ever hid from thy eyes ? She camelike a heavenly messenger preaching peace to myspirit, and peace was not appointed me. O JaneMontagu ! whywas the tinsel of the world preciousto thee, and its fine gold of no price ?Surely, surely