"Quite; she can scarcely be said to have become an angel too soon, for she was always one."
This was said with a feeling that did not escape Paul, though it surprised him. There were six or seven miniature-cases in the compartment of the dressing-box, and supposing that the one which lay uppermost belonged to the miniature in his hand, he raised it, and opened the lid with a view to replace the picture of Eve's mother, with a species of pious reverence. Instead of finding an empty case, however, another miniature met his eye. The exclamation that now escaped the young man was one of delight and surprise.
"That must be my grandmother, with whom you are in such raptures, at present," said John Effingham, laughing--"I was comparing it yesterday with the picture of Eve, which is in the Russia-leather case, that you will find somewhere there. I do not wonder, however, at your admiration, for she was a beauty in her day, and no woman is fool enough to be painted after she grows ugly."
"Not so--not so--Mr. Effingham! This is the miniature I lost in the Montauk, and which I had given up as booty to the Arabs. It has, doubtless, found its way into your state-room, and has been put among your effects by your man, through mistake. It is very precious to me, for it is nearly every memorial I possess of my own mother!"
"Your mother!" exclaimed John Effingham rising. "I think there must be some mistake, for I examined all those pictures this very morning, and it is the first time they have been opened since our arrival from Europe. It cannot be the missing picture."
"Mine it is certainly; in that I cannot be mistaken!"
"It would be odd indeed, if one of my grandmothers, for both are there, should prove to be your mother.--Powis, will you have the goodness to let me see the picture you mean."
Paul brought the miniature and a light, placing both before the eyes of his friend.
"That!" exclaimed John Effingham, his voice sounding harsh and unnatural to the listener,--"that picture like your mother!"
"It is her miniature--the miniature that was transmitted to me, from those who had charge of my childhood. I cannot be mistaken as to the countenance, or the dress."