"You do not remember her?"
"Not in the least; she died when I was a mere baby."
"Did you ever see her portrait, or any of her writing, or hear her maiden name?"
"No, to all your questions. Does papa know you are here, this morning?"
"Yes; I went to him at once. At first he was very determined I should not see you; but in the end, he seemed glad to get me silenced at any price, and I was so anxious to see you that I did not wait for very cordial permission."
"You did not talk to papa about my mother?"
"Yes, that is what I went for."
"How did you dare to do it? Was he not very angry? I am sure you know something about mamma."
"Yes, I do. I have her portrait; this is it."
"Her portrait! My mamma's portrait! O what a beautiful face! Is this really my mamma? Did papa see it? Did he recognize it?"