Taking it between my finger and thumb, and drawing it upward, I discovered that there was a false bottom to the case, forming a secret compartment for letters and papers.
In my strange condition--capricious, idle, inquisitive--it was an amusement to me to take out the papers, just as I had taken out everything else.
I found some receipted bills, which failed to interest me; some letters, which it is needless to say I laid aside after only looking at the addresses; and, under all, a photograph, face downward, with writing on the back of it.

I looked at the writing, and saw these words: "To my dear son, Eustace." His mother! the woman who had so obstinately and mercilessly opposed herself to our marriage! I eagerly turned the photograph, expecting to see a woman with a stern, ill-tempered, forbidding countenance.

To my surprise, the face showed the remains of great beauty; the expression, though remarkably firm, was yet winning, tender, and kind.

The gray hair was arranged in rows of little quaint old-fashioned curls on either side of the head, under a plain lace cap.

At one corner of the mouth there was a mark, apparently a mole, which added to the characteristic peculiarity of the face.
I looked and looked, fixing the portrait thoroughly in my mind.