In this state of mind he unlocked one of the drawers in a secretary and took therefrom a small box or casket.  Placing this on a table, he sat down and looked at it for some minutes, as if in doubt whether it were best for him to go further in this direction.  Whether satisfied or not, he presently laid his fingers upon the lid of the casket and slowly opened it.  It contained only a morocco case.  He touched this as if it were something precious and sacred.  For some moments after it was removed he sat holding it in his hand and looking at the dark, blank surface, as a long-expected letter is sometimes held before the seal is broken and the contents devoured with impatient eagerness.  At last his finger pressed the spring on which it had been resting, and he looked upon a young, sweet face, whose eyes gazed back into his with a living tenderness.  In a little while his hand so trembled, and his eyes grew so dim, that the face was veiled from his sight.  Closing the miniature, but still retaining it in his hand, he leaned back in his chair and remained motionless, with shut eyes, for a long time; then he looked at the fair young face again, conning over every feature and expression, until sad memories came in and veiled it again with tears.

“Folly! weakness!” he said at last, pushing the picture from him and making a feeble effort to get back his manly self-possession.  “The past is gone for ever.  The page on which its sad history is written was closed long ago, and the book is sealed.  Why unclasp the volume and search for that dark record again?”

Yet, even as he said this, his hand reached out for the miniature, and his eyes were on it ere the closing words had parted from his lips.

“Poor Irene!” he murmured, as he gazed on her pictured face.  “You had a pure, tender, loving heart—­” then, suddenly shutting the miniature, with a sharp click of the spring, he tossed it from him upon the table and said,

“This is folly! folly! folly!” and, leaning back in his chair, he shut his eyes and sat for a long time with his brows sternly knitted together and his lips tightly compressed.  Rising, at length, he restored the miniature to its casket, and the casket to its place in the drawer.  A servant came to the door at this moment, bringing the compliments of a lady friend, who asked him, if not engaged, to favor her with his company on that evening, as she had a visitor, just arrived, to whom she wished to introduce him.  He liked the lady, who was the wife of a legal friend, very well; but he was not always so well pleased with her lady friends, of whom she had a large circle.  The fact was, she considered him too fine a man to go through life companionless, and did not hesitate to use every art in her power to draw him into an entangling alliance.  He saw this, and was often more amused than annoyed by her finesse.