ausing-places on them,
revived in memory under a concentrated inward gaze like invisible
paintings brought over heat.

One afternoon, after wandering about the city for some hours, he
turned into a park to rest. As he approached his usual bench, sacred
to him because Ida and he in the old days had often sat there, he was
annoyed to see it already occupied by a pleasant-faced, matronly
looking German woman, who was complacently listening to the chatter of
a couple of small children. Randall threw himself upon the unoccupied
end of the bench, rather hoping that his gloomy and preoccupied air
might cause them to depart and leave him to his melancholy revery.
And, indeed, it was not long before the children stopped their play
and gathered timidly about their mother, and soon after the bench
tilted slightly as she relieved it of her substantial charms, saying
in a cheery, pleasant voice:

"Come, little ones, the father will be at home before us."

It was a secluded part of the garden, and the plentiful color left her
cheeks as the odd gentleman at the other end of the bench turned with
a great start at the sound of her voice, and transfixed her with a
questioning look. But in a moment he said:

"Pardon me, madam, a thousand times. The sound of your voice so
reminded me of a friend I have lost, that I looked up involuntarily."

The woman responded with good-natured assurances that he had not at
all alarmed her. Meanwhile, Randall had an opportunity to notice that
in spite of the thick-waisted and generally matronly figure, there
were, now he came to look closely, several rather marked resemblances
to Ida. The eyes were of the same blue tint, though about half as
large, the cheeks being twice as full. In spite of the ugly style of
dressing it, he saw also that the hair was like Ida's, and as for the
nose, that feature which changes least, it might have been taken out
of Ida's own face. As may be supposed, he was thoroughly disgusted to
be reminded of that sweet girlish vision by this broadly moulded,
comfortable-looking matron. His romantic mood was scattered for that
evening at least, and he knew he shouldn't get the prosaic suggestions
of the unfortunate resemblance out of his mind for a week at least. It
would torment him as a humorous association spoils a sacred hymn.

He bowed with rather an ill grace, and was about to retire, when a
certain peculiar turn of the neck as the lady acknowledged his salute,
caught his