Frank E. Smedley, Lewis Arundel; Or, The Railroad Of Life
“ He rose and paced the room, as was his wont when deeply excited. Where should he seek a clue to this mystery? could he believe—the thought flashed like lightning through his brain, like lightning, searing as it passed—could he believe that he had again been duped by a coquette? were all women false and heartless alike? could the goodness, and innocence, and purity which rendered beauty such as Annie’s a link between earth and heaven be mere counterfeits, and not the angel-instincts they appeared? Did good exist at all? ”
