"Very well," replied Jack, "go on with your 'study,' but I wish you would make a little more of a study of yourself and of your own life," and as he spoke, he carelessly took up a magazine and began turning the pages. "I don't know why," answered Lyle slowly, at the same time going over to the table where she had caught sight of a photograph which had evidently been concealed by the magazine, "my life before you became my friend and teacher would not make an interesting study for any one.--Oh, Jack, whose picture is this? and when did you get it?" "That?" said Jack, answering indifferently, but watching her face keenly, "Oh, that is a picture I've had a great while." "But, Jack, I never saw it, did I?" "No, Lyle, I haven't seen it myself for years, until to-night." "Not for years? how strange!" said Lyle in a low tone; then looking wistfully at the picture, she said, half to herself, "She must have been some one you loved some time." "She was very dear to me," he replied, so quietly that Lyle said nothing, but remained looking long and earnestly at the photograph. It was the picture of a young girl, a few years older than herself, but much more matured, and wondrously beautiful. The features were almost perfect, and the eyes, even there, seemed so radiant and tender. There seemed a wealth of love and sympathy in those eyes that touched Lyle's lonely heart, and her own eyes filled with tears, while she gazed as if under a spell; then she asked in a sort of bewildered tone: "Jack, I never saw her, did I?" "Certainly not while you have been here," he replied, "I cannot say whom you may have seen before that." "Before I came here," repeated Lyle dreamily, laying down the picture and preparing to go, "that is a sort of blank for the most part. It seems as though this hateful life had obliterated everything before it; the early years of my life seem buried out of sight." "Try to resurrect them," said Jack, adding, "Keep your eyes and ears open, and let me know results. Had I not better go home with you?" "Oh, no, thank you," said Lyle, smiling brightly, "it isn't late." "Then Rex must go," and Rex who was only waiting for the word bounded to the door to signify his readiness. After Lyle had gone, Jack took the picture, and after looking at it sadly for a moment, replaced it in the little case in his trunk where it had lain so long, and then sat down by the fire, muttering, "Strange she did not see the resemblance! I hoped she would; there could not be two faces more alike." All the way home, Lyle was thinking of the beautiful face, wondering where she had seen it, that it should seem so familiar, and after dismissing Rex with a caress, she sat for some time in the low porch, trying to solve the mystery. "It is no use," she said to herself at length, "it is no face I have ever seen, unless in some of those strange dreams I used to have."