blessed angels, for she was pure and good. This ought to be enough
for me. The agonies of a fearful departure are long since over. And
why should I recall them, and break up afresh the tender wounds that
bleed at the slightest touch? Henceforth I will strive to look away
from the past, and onward, in pleasing hope, to that future time
when we shall meet where there will be no more parting."

"She must have been a lovely creature indeed," said Milford, some
minutes after his friend had ceased, holding, as he spoke, the
miniature in his hand, and looking at it attentively.

"She was lovely as innocence itself," was the half abstracted reply.

"Although I never saw her, yet there is an expression in her face
that is familiar"--Milford went on to say--"very familiar; but it
awakens, I cannot tell why, a feeling of pain. This face is a happy
face; and yet t seems every moment as if it would change into a look
of sadness--yea, of deep sorrow and suffering."

"This may arise, and no doubt does, from the melancholy history
connected with her, that I have just related."

"Perhaps that is the reason," Milford returned, thoughtfully. "And
yet I know not how to account for the strangely familiar expression
of her face."

"Did you ever see a picture in your life that had not in it some
feature that was familiar?" asked Perkins.

"Perhaps not," the friend replied, and then sat in mental