'That is Mrs. Griswold's portrait,' said Mrs. Jenkins, in reply to her sister's observation, 'and it is not at all flattered; so now you can see, if you had got a near view of her last night, you would have agreed with me about her beauty.' 'Yes,' said Miss Montressor slowly, 'that is a pretty face, and one cannot say of it, as one does of so many pretty faces, that there is nothing in it. I should think she was a very sensible woman, as well as a very kind-hearted one?' 'She is just that,' said Mrs. Jenkins enthusiastically. 'Sit down here, Clara, and have a good look at it.' The sisters placed themselves side by side upon an ottoman which commanded a good view of the portrait, at which Miss Montressor continued steadfastly to gaze. All doubt was over now, all hope that she had been mistaken was at an end; the miniature she had seen in the watch that day as she paced the terrace at Richmond was but a reduced copy without the veil, and the face that looked mildly, beaming down upon her out of its gilded frame, was as fresh and fair as the roses in the feet. Miss Montressor was not of a classic turn of mind; her education had not gone far in any direction, nor at all in that; she did not refer the suggestiveness of the open scissors in the woman's hand, about to snip the fresh young life of the beautiful rose, to any recollection of the Pareae; but it had a certain something in it which impressed her, something of suspicion which filled her eyes with tears unseen by Mrs. Jenkins. 'Is there a portrait of Mr. Griswold?' she asked. 'Only a small one, half-sized, and since he went away Mrs. Griswold has had it moved to her bedroom. It hangs on the wall just over her dressing-table, and opposite the foot of her bed. It is the first thing she must see in the morning when she opens her eyes. They say it is uncommonly like him; it is painted by the same artist who did this one; but Mrs. Griswold will have it the picture in her bracelet--much handsomer and much younger--is more like Mr. Griswold.' 'Does any one of her family stay with her while he is away?' was Miss Montressor's next question. 'There is not any family. She has no relatives, I am told, not only in New York, but in all the world; she was an orphan when Mr. Griswold married her, and I do not believe he has any relatives; for I have never seen any nor heard them spoken of, either by her or among the servants.' 'That's lonely for Mrs. Griswold. Has she much company while he is away? But I think you said not yesterday?'