I seem to hear you singing, "'Oh that I now the rest might know!' "Do you know how often you used to sing that?
Good-by.
"Your affectionate, HOPE." Mrs.Simcoe held the letter in her hand for a long time, looking, as usual, out of the window.
Presently she rose, and went to a bureau, and unlocked a drawer with a key that she carried in her pocket.

Taking out an ebony box like a casket, she unlocked that in turn, and then lifted from it a morocco case, evidently a miniature.

She returned to her chair and seated herself again, swaying her body gently to and fro as if confirming some difficult resolution, but with the same inscrutable expression upon her face.

Still holding the case in her hands unopened, she murmured: "I want a sober mind, A self-renouncing will, That tramples down and casts behind The baits of pleasing ill." She repeated the whole hymn several times, as if it were a kind of spell or incantation, and while she was yet saying it she opened the miniature.
The western light streamed over the likeness of a man of a gallant, graceful air, in whom the fires of youth were not yet burned out, and in whose presence there might be some peculiar fascination.

The hair was rather long and fair--the features were handsomely moulded, but wore a slightly jaded expression, which often seems to a woman an air of melancholy, but which a man would have recognized at once as the result of dissipation.