pot, for on opening the case,
the fair, beautiful face of 'Lena Rivers looked smilingly out upon
him!

"Where did you get this, mother?--how came you by it?" he asked, and
she answered, that in looking through her husband's private drawer,
the key of which she had accidentally found in his vest pocket, she
had come upon it, together with a curl of soft chestnut-brown hair
which she threw across Durward's finger, and from which he recoiled
as from a viper's touch.

For several minutes not a word was spoken by either, and then Mrs.
Graham, looking him in the face, said, "You recognize that
countenance, of course?"

"I do," he replied, in a voice husky with emotion, for Durward was
terribly moved.

Twice had 'Lena asserted that never in her life had her daguerreotype
been taken, and yet he held it in his hands; there was no mistaking
it--the same broad, open brow--the same full, red lips--the same
smile--and more than all, the same clustering ringlets, though
arranged a little differently from what she usually wore them, the
hair on the picture being combed smoothly over the forehead, while
'Lena's was generally brushed up after the style of the prevailing
fashion. Had Durward examined minutely, he might have found other
points of difference, but he did not think of that. A look had
convinced him that 'twas 'Lena--his 'Lena, he had fondly hoped to
call her. But that was over now--she had deceived him--told him a
deliberate falsehood--refused him her daguerreotype and given it to
his father, whose secrecy concerning it indicated something wrong.
His faith was shaken, and yet for the sake of what she had been to
him, he would spare her good name. He could not bear to hear the
world breathe aught against her, for possibly she might be innocent;
but no, there was no mistaking the falsehood, and Durward groaned in
bitterness as he handed the picture to his mother, bidding her return
it where she found it. Mrs. Graham had never seen her son thus
moved, and obeying him, she placed her hand upon his arm, asking,
"why he was so affected--what she was to him?"

"Everything, everything," said he, laying his face upon the table.
"'Lena Rivers was all the world to me. I loved her as I shall never
love again."

And then, without withholding a thing, Durward told his mother
all--how he had that very morning gone to Frankfort with the
intention of offering 'Lena his hand--how he had partially done so,
when they were interr