Mark and Hester, continuing their explorations, came upon a shelf among the rows of books which seemed to be given up to miniatures and daguerrotypes. One of these was the portrait of a young man with a rarely beautiful face which caught Hester's eye. "I feel sure this is a portrait of Mr. Morpeth when he was young," she remarked, after scanning it. "If so he has sadly changed," returned Mark, as he looked at the young spirited face with bright, dauntless-looking eyes, and compared them with the sad, meditative grey orbs into which he had been looking before the ladies joined them. "And this, I suppose, must be his sister! She looks too young for his mother. Pretty face, isn't it?" said Hester, handing Mark another old daguerrotype in its leathern case. "Superficially pretty, perhaps," returned Mark. "No, I don't admire the face," he added, and was about to replace it on the shelf without further comment, when Hester said: "Let me see it again! It reminds me curiously of some girl--I think--I've seen either here or at home. Those eyes look familiar and the shape of that nose--I know who it's like. It has a look of my husband! How odd! I'm sure he isn't girlish-looking," she added with a laugh. Mark took the portrait into his hand again and examined it attentively. "Yes, perhaps there is a likeness--about the eyes especially." He was still looking at it when they were joined by Mrs. Fellowes and Mr. Morpeth. "Ah, you are looking at my little gallery of old portraits," he said. "I fear they are not very artistic But I've got some portfolios of old engravings that are worth looking at. I have them carefully stowed away, one can't leave such things about. The monsoon makes such havoc on all pictures--even under glass, not to speak of the insects." "Is this a relative of yours, Morpeth?" asked Mark, holding out the old daguerrotype. "Your sister, perhaps!" "No, not my sister, alas, I never had one! That is my late wife." "Your wife!" exclaimed Mrs. Fellowes, coming forward to look at the picture. "Forgive my accent of surprise, dear friend, but do you know neither the Colonel nor I ever knew you were married. We have always set you down as a bachelor!" "Well, I have been so for many a long day. My wife died a year after we were married," he added, a pained look crossing his face. Mrs. Fellowes, after a close survey of the portrait, replaced it on the shelf, saying to herself as she did so: "Wouldn't have been much of a companion to the dear man if she had lived, if I can read faces!" Hester, seeing the look of sadness in Mr. Morpeth's eyes, hastened to make some digression, and turned to admire an exquisitely carved ivory box which stood on the same shelf as the portraits.