Then suddenly remembering the other strange feature of the circumstance, I turned impulsively to Hortense and observed:
"I did not know that you and Mr. Dalton were friends. I never heard him mention your name."
"Nor did I know that you and he were friends," she interrupted, a little incisively, I thought. "I never heard him mention your name."
"That is strange" said I, "for he has known me from my infancy. I have sat upon Mr. Dalton's knee time and again, listening to his thrilling anecdotes and telling him my petty confidences."
"Have you?" very indifferently.
"Yes, and that is why I am morally certain this picture can in no way be associated with me, for there is no reason why Mr. Dalton should have one and keep it secret. Besides, I ought to know" I argued warmly, "whether I had ever had such pictures taken, and whether he had been given one or not."
"Well it is very like you, Amey," Hortense resumed in a more calm and friendly tone "So much so, that when I saw you for the first time at Notre Dame Abbey, I recognized you from this."
"Oh then you have seen this before," I exclaimed.
A deep, red shadow flitted across her face for one moment and she answered timidly.
"Yes, he showed it to me, but when I met you I could not remember where it was I had seen your face before. It troubled me then, and it has often puzzled me since. Now, the whole mystery is solved" she said, rising from her lowly seat, and going towards the window. She still held the locket in one open palm, and I know she muttered, half audibly, as she turned away