But not even the memory of that hour or that youth now threw a shadow upon her heart or life.

The eyes with which she watched the setting sun were as free from sorrow as they were from guile.
Lawrence Newt was standing near the window in the library, looking up at the portrait that hung there, and deep into the soft, dark eyes.

He had a trustful, candid air, as if he were seeking from it a benediction or consolation.

As the long sunset light swept across the room, and touched tenderly the tender girl's face of the portrait, it seemed to him to smile tranquilly and trustingly, as if it understood and answered his confidence, and a deep peace fell upon his heart.
And high above, from her window that looked westward--with a clearer, softer gaze, as if Time had cleared and softened the doubts and obscurities of life--Mrs.Simcoe's face was turned to the setting sun.
Behind the distant dark-blue hills the June sun set--set upon three hearts, at least, that Time and Life had taught and tempered--upon three hearts that were brought together then and there, not altogether understanding each other, but ready and willing to understand.

As it darkened within the library and the picture was hidden, Lawrence Newt stood at the window and looked upon the lawn where Hope was sitting.