A great resemblance, that was all; it did not occur to her for some minutes that the man in the picture and the man she had seen could be the same person. But as her fascinated eyes pored over the painting, studying each feature, it grew upon her gradually that the likeness between it and the man was that of a face in happiness to a face in sorrow, and she saw the possibility that they were one and the same person. As this thought crossed her mind, she stepped back startled by her own discovery. The light, growing stronger every moment, began to bathe the picture in the brightness of a summer morning, and she noticed then with what care it had been preserved. A tiny rod ran along the top of the picture, and from it hung two curtains, now drawn aside, of dark blue satin, hung with bullion fringe, and embroidered richly in shades of blue and gold. Mabin’s eyes, attracted by the beautiful colors, were fixed upon this handsome hanging, when a piercing cry, uttered by a voice she did not recognize, but which thrilled her by its wild grief, made her start and turn round. Just within the door by which she had entered the room Mrs. Dale was lying prone, motionless, on the floor. Mabin, trembling from head to foot, went down on her knees beside her friend, and found that she had fainted. Not wishing to call the servants, she ran into the adjoining bedroom, fetched some water, and sprinkled it on the face of the unconscious woman. But at first Mrs. Dale gave no sign of life, and Mabin had time to reflect on the course she had better take. And as, she thought, Mrs. Dale’s sudden loss of consciousness must be in some way connected with the picture, it would be better that she should find herself, on recovering, in another room. Mabin was so much taller than Mrs. Dale that she found it a comparatively easy task to drag the little, slenderly made creature into the adjoining bedroom, and when she got her upon the sofa at the foot of the bed she found that the pink color was returning to her patient’s cheeks, that her hands and eyelids were moving slightly, and that a sigh was struggling up to her lips. “Do you feel better now, dear?” asked Mabin rather tremulously. For she had some doubts as to the scene which might be impending. Mrs. Dale opened her eyes, but made no answer. She did not seem to hear Mabin; she seemed to be listening, trying to remember. “Would you like a little water?” went on Mabin, rather frightened by the silence, and betraying her feelings in her tone and in the expression of her face. Then Mrs. Dale sat up, and the rather vacant look on her face grew into one of weary sadness. “No, dear, thank you. I am not thirsty; and I--and I--am quite well.” As she said this she rose, and glanced anxiously round the room. Then she looked at the door which communicated with the adjoining apartment, and suddenly sprang toward it. “Don’t, don’t go in there!” cried Mabin, quickly, imploringly.