“Miss Pimpernell is going to write to me, you know,”—I continued,—“and I to her; so you will be made acquainted with all I do and, even, think. I will write fully to the dear old lady, I promise you!”
She gave me a little Bible and Prayer-book, before we separated, in which she had written my name; and, told me that she would pray every night for me, that I might know that her prayers joined mine, and that both, together, would go up before the Master’s throne - notwithstanding that the Atlantic might roll between us.
She also gave me a likeness of herself, which was of more solace to me afterwards than I can tell.
A little, simple photograph it was, that has lain before my eyes a thousand times—in hope, in sadness, in sickness, in disappointment; and, that has always cheered me and encouraged me in some of the darkest moments of my life, ever bringing back to my mind the darling words of the giver.
And then, we parted.
One sobbing sigh, that expressed a world of emotion. One frenzied clasp of her to my heart, as if I could never let her go; and, our “Good-bye” was spoken, accomplished:—a good-bye whose recollection was to last! until I returned to claim her, receiving the welcome that her darling rosebud lips would gladly utter; and watching, the while, the unspoken delight that would then, I know, dance from the loving, soul-lit, truth-telling, grey eyes!