Greenwood gazed upon her in speechless astonishment: he fancied that her reason was unhinged; and—he knew not why—he was afraid!
Ellen glanced around, and her eyes rested upon a magnificent picture that hung against the wall. The subject of this painting, which had no doubt struck her upon first entering that room, was a mythological scene.
Taking Greenwood by the hand, Ellen led him towards the picture.
"Do you see any thing that strikes you strangely there?" she said, pointing towards the work of art.
"The scene is Venus rising from the ocean, surrounded by nereids and nymphs," answered Greenwood.
"And you admire your picture much?"
"Yes—much; or else I should not have purchased it."
"Then have you unwittingly admired me," exclaimed Ellen; "for the face of your Venus is my own!"
Greenwood gazed earnestly upon the picture for a few moments; then, turning towards Ellen, he cried, "True—it is true! There are your eyes—your mouth—your smile—your forehead—your very hair! How strange that I never noticed this before. But—no—it is a dream: it is a mere coincidence! Tell me—how could this have taken place;—speak—is it not a mere delusion—an accidental resemblance which you noticed on entering this room?"