My life may be long; faith, hope, and even love for Lenore, may become weak within me; but never shall be effaced from my heart, the deep feeling of sorrow for the sad fate of Jessie H--. May her spirit be ever blessed of God! Her last act was not that of self-murder. It was simply that of dying; and if in the manner she acted wrong, it was a wrong of which we may all be guilty. Let her not be condemned then, among those whose souls are tainted and distorted by the vanities and hypocrisies of so-called civilised society! To her family and friends, there was a mystery about the cause of her death, that they could not unravel. Her letter to me would have explained all; but that letter I did not produce. It would only have added fuel to the fire of their grief--causing it to burn with greater fierceness, and perhaps to endure longer. I did not wish to add to their unhappiness. I had too much respect for her memory to exhibit that epistle to any one, and see it printed, with the usual vulgar commentary, in the papers of the day. The unfortunate ending of her life is now an event of the past; and her parents have gone to rejoin her in another and happier world, else that letter would still have remained in the secret drawer--from which it has now been taken. Volume Three, Chapter XXXIV. THE ROLLING STONE AT REST. One bright May morning, from the turrets of two London churches pealed forth the sound of bells. Sadly discordant were they in tone, yet less so, than the causes for which they were being tolled. One was solemnly announcing the funeral of one, who had lived too long, or died too soon. Its mournful monotone proclaimed, that a spirit had departed from this world of woe, while the merry peals of the other betokened a ceremony of a far different character: that in which two souls were being united--to enjoy the supremest happiness upon earth. It seemed a strange coincidence, that the very day chosen for my marriage with Lenore should be the one appointed for the funeral of Jessie H--. And yet such chanced to be the case. I knew it; and the knowledge made me sad. There was a time, when I would not have believed, that a cloud of sorrow could have cast its shadow over my soul, on the day I should be wedded to Lenore. But I did not then understand myself; or the circumstances in which Fate was capable of placing me. Ten years have elapsed, since that day of mingled joy and sadness--ten years of, I may almost say, unalloyed happiness, in the companionship of a fond affectionate wife. During this time, I have made a few intimate friends; and there is not one of them would believe--from the quiet, contented manner in which I now pass my time that I had ever been a "Rolling Stone." Since becoming a "Benedict," I have not been altogether idle. Believing that no man can enjoy life, so well as he who takes a part in its affairs, I was not long settled in London, before entering into an occupation.