ing undergone no very
striking revolution in the last twenty years, he exclaimed--

"This is indeed a treasure, Mr. Effingham, and most sincerely do I
envy you its possession. It is like, and yet, in some particulars, it
is unlike--it scarcely does Miss Effingham justice about the nose and
forehead!"

John Effingham started when he saw the miniature in Paul's hand, but
recovering himself, he smiled at the eager delusion of his young
friend, and said with perfect composure--

"It is not Eve, but her mother. The two features you have named in
the former came from my family; but in all the others, the likeness
is almost identical."

"This then is Mrs. Effingham!" murmured Paul, gazing on the face of
the mother of his love, with a respectful melancholy, and an interest
that was rather heightened than lessened by a knowledge of the truth.
"She died young, sir?"

"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.