Where a man would have simply left his forgotten slippers or collars there was a glass of still unfaded flowers; the cold marble top of the dressing-table was littered with a few linen and silk toilet covers; and on the mantel-shelf was a sheaf of photographs.

He walked towards them mechanically, glanced at them abstractedly, and then stopped suddenly with a beating heart.

Before him was the picture of his past, the photograph of the one woman who had filled his life! He cast a hurried glance around the room as if he half expected to see the original start up before him, and then eagerly seized it and hurried with it to the light.

Yes! yes! It was SHE,--she as she had lived in his actual memory; she as she had lived in his dream.

He saw her sweet eyes, but the frightened, innocent trouble had passed from them; there was the sensitive elegance of her graceful figure in evening dress; but the figure was fuller and maturer.