She was a stranger.

I know of no Madame Duclos and am sure that I never saw her young daughter before; and yet I have started up in my bed more than once during these past few nights, confident that in another moment memory would supply the clue which will rid my mind of the eternal question as to where I have seen a face like hers before?
But memory fails to answer; and the struggle, momentarily interrupted, begins again, to the destruction of my peace and comfort." "Odd! but you must rid yourself of what unnerves you so completely.

It does no good and only adds to regrets which are poignant enough in themselves." "That is true; but--stop a minute.

I see it now--her face, I mean.

It comes between me and the house there.