And now that after so long a separation they were tragically brought together again, they both felt their memory awaking.

The old house spoke to them of their childhood, of their parents dead and gone, of the far-away days when they had loved and suffered there.

Beneath the window lay the garden, now icy cold, which once, under the sunbeams, had re-echoed with their play.

On the left was the laboratory, the spacious room where their father had taught them to read.

On the right, in the dining-room, they could picture their mother cutting bread and butter for them, and looking so gentle with her big, despairing eyes--those of a believer mated to an infidel.