h were
very pretty in themselves. My father had purchased the stones--rubies of
some beauty--in one of his voyages, for my mother, who had fancied them
too showy for her to wear. I had caused them to be set for Grace, and they
would make a very suitable ornament for Lucy; and were to be so much the
more prized, from the circumstance, that Grace had once worn them. It is
true, they contained a little, though very little of my hair; for on this
Grace had insisted; but this hair was rather a blemish, and might easily
be removed. I said as much in my letter.

On the subject of my sister's death, I found it impossible to write much.
The little I did say, however, was in full accordance with her own
feelings, I felt persuaded, and I had no difficulty in believing she would
sympathize in all I did express, and in much that I had not words
to express.

On the subject of the necklace, I did find language to communicate a
little, though it was done in the part of the letter where a woman is said
to give her real thoughts,--the postscript. In answer to what Lucy had
said on the subject of my own necklace, I wrote as follows, viz:--"You
speak of my reserving the more valuable pearls for one, who, at some
future day, may become my wife. I confess this was my own intention,
originally; and very pleasant was it to me to fancy that one so dear would
wear pearls that had been brought up out of the sea by my own hands. But
dearest Lucy, all these agreeable and delusive anticipations have
vanished. Depend on it, I shall never marry. I know that declarations of
this sort, in young men of three and twenty, like those of maidens of
nineteen, excite a smile oftener than they produce belief; but I do not
say this without reflection, and, I may add, without feeling. She whom I
once did hope to persuade to marry me, although much my friend, is not
accustomed to view me with the eyes that lead to love. We were brought
together under circumstances that have probably induced her to regard me
more as a brother than as a suitor, and while the golden moments have
passed away, her affections have become the property of another. I
resemble, in this particular at least, our regretted Grace, and am not
likely to change. My nature may be sterner, and my constitution stronger,
than those of my poor sister proved to be, but I feel I cannot love twice;
not as I have, and still do love, most certainly. Why should I trouble you
with all this, however? I know y