It was strange how childish the strong man
became, counting those threads of hair; and when at last the labor
was completed, he wept because there were no more. Fifteen hundred
dollars seemed too small a sum to pay for what would give him so
much joy; and _he_ mourned that the tress had not been larger,
quite as much as did Eugenia, when she heard of his odd fancy.
The moon had long since ceased to shine on the sleeping city, and
day was breaking in the east, ere Nathaniel Deane arose from the
table where he had sat the livelong night, gloating over his
treasure, and writing a letter which now lay upon the table. It
was addressed to Dora, and in it he told her what he had done,
blessing her for sending him that lock of hair, and saying that
the sight of it made his withered heart grow young and green
again, as it was in the happy days when he so madly loved her
mother. Then he told her how he yearned to behold her, to look
upon her face and see which she was like, her father or her
mother. Both were very dear to him, and for their sake he loved
their child.
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