John Boyle O'Reilly

“ Sheridan's unhappiness is old, then?"
"Yes; it began years ago, when he was little more than a boy."
Alice was silent. She walked slowly beside Mr. Wyville for a dozen steps. Then she stopped, as if unable to proceed, and, laying her hand on a low branch beside the path, turned to him.
"Mr. Wyville," she said, "has Mr. Sheridan told you the cause of his unhappiness?"
"He has," he replied, astonished at the abrupt question; "it is most unfortunate and utterly hopeless. Time alone can heal the deep wound. He has told me that you knew him years ago: you probably know the sad story." ”

“ Alice's eyes were suffused with tears as she bent her head over the lovely bud. It appealed to her now, in the midst of her happiness, with unspeakable tenderness of recollection. She held it to her lips, almost prayerful, so moved that she could not speak.
"Only think," continued Sister Cecilia, "for nine months to come we shall never want for roses and buds. Ah me! I think we value them less for their plenty. It's a good thing to visit the prison now and again, isn't it, Alice? We love rosebuds all the better for remembering the weeds." ”

“ Sheridan," he continued; "he is a fine fellow; and I fear he has been very unhappy."
"He has been very busy," she said, looking down at the river; "men have a great deal to distract them from unhappiness."
"See that jagged rock beneath the water," he said, pointing to a stone, the raised point of which broke the calm surface of the river. "Some poet likens a man's sorrow to such a stone. When the flood comes, the sweeping rush of enterprise or duty, it is buried; but in the calm season it will rise again to cut the surface, like an ancient pain."
Alice followed the simile with eye and mind. ”