And suddenly uttered a little cry.
Instantly he was beside her; the page lay open at a golden scene where the Sleeping Beauty had just awakened, and the glittering Prince had fallen on one knee beside her couch.
"Jim! I—I remember that! It was all gold—all—all golden—everything—her hair and his—and the couch and her gown and his clothes—all gold, everything golden!
"I know that picture. Where in the world did you find it? I was a child—they showed it to me; I always asked for it——" She looked up at him, bewildered.
"Turn the pages!" he said.
She turned; another soft little cry escaped her; she recognized the picture, and the next one also, and the next, and every succeeding one, excitedly calling his attention to details which had impressed her as a child.
Of the other books she seemed to retain no recollection; remembered none of the toys, nothing of the clothing except the faded silken cloak with its border of swansdown. But this book she remembered vividly; and when he showed her her name written in it she grew a little pale with surprise and excitement.
Then, seated there on the table's edge beside her, he told her what Asticot had told him and showed her the photographs.
She seemed a little dazed at first, but, as he continued, the color returned to her cheeks and the excitement died out in her grey eyes.
"I cannot remember these events," she said very quietly.