She opened it, and, unlocking an inner drawer, took therefrom a small morocco case, lined with red velvet, and containing a daguerreotype much faded by age.

She studied it long and earnestly, but seemingly without any very satisfactory result.
"But how can I expect it ?" murmured she.

"So long ago as this was taken! so sickly and unformed as he was then! But, oh! did they think I could be blind to that face, and form, and expression! and there is none other but he, now; the father is dead.

Dead! Well, may God forgive him all the evil of his life! I'm sure I do.

But what will this turn out to be, I wonder--a curse or a blessing?
I must wait--it isn't for me to speak; I must wait, and the end may be happy, after all.".