You have been mine before,
How long ago I may not know;
But just when, at that swallow's soar,
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall—I knew it all of yore."
—Rossetti.
E must now return to Mr. Armstrong, whom we left in chapter XII. in conference with Dr. Carver over the Doctor's advertisement of the case of lost identity inserted in the daily papers ten years before.
The physician listened gravely to Mr. Armstrong's account of the loss of his wife and infant son, the wild hopes which were now awakened, and to his request for the address of the lady referred to, and gave him a pitying glance as he replied:
"So many bereaved persons have come to me fancying that they recognized a loved one in that notice, only to be cruelly disappointed; and Mrs. Halsey has in the past been subjected to so many trying interviews of this description, that I hesitate to encourage your visiting her, unless you have positive proof of what you hope. A photograph would give this proof."
"And, unfortunately, I have none of Mrs. Armstrong."
"But I had one taken of Mrs. Halsey, which I have kept in the hope that it might be identified some day;" and the Doctor drew from his pocket-book a thumbed and discolored photograph, which he placed in Mr. Armstrong's hand.
The effect was unmistakable. The strong man rose to his feet, staggered, and fainted, for he had recognized his wife. The physician quickly restored him to consciousness, and after waiting until the effect of the shock had partially passed away, he said:
"I see that there is no danger of any mistake, and that I may direct you where to find Mrs. Halsey—I beg pardon, Mrs. Armstrong. Her address, when I last saw her, was No. 1 Rickett's Court."