ner," retorted Lyle quickly, "and you are a
gentleman, and always will be."

"In your opinion, child," said Jack pleasantly; then turning the
subject, he asked, "What do you think of the 'lily' as you styled him,
Mr. Rutherford, I think you called his name?"

"Oh, he is a gentlemanly fellow, not so ridiculous as he looks;
good-hearted, but not deep like the other,--not half so interesting to
study."

"Very well," replied Jack, "go on with your 'study,' but I wish you
would make a little more of a study of yourself and of your own life,"
and as he spoke, he carelessly took up a magazine and began turning
the pages.

"I don't know why," answered Lyle slowly, at the same time going over
to the table where she had caught sight of a photograph which had
evidently been concealed by the magazine, "my life before you became
my friend and teacher would not make an interesting study for any
one.--Oh, Jack, whose picture is this? and when did you get it?"

"That?" said Jack, answering indifferently, but watching her face
keenly, "Oh, that is a picture I've had a great while."

"But, Jack, I never saw it, did I?"

"No, Lyle, I haven't seen it myself for years, until to-night."

"Not for years? how strange!" said Lyle in a low tone; then looking
wistfully at the picture, she said, half to herself, "She must have
been some one you loved some time."

"She was very dear to me," he replied, so quietly that Lyle said
nothing, but remained looking long and earnestly at the photograph. It
was the picture of a young girl, a few years older than herself, but
much more matured, and wondrously beautiful. The features were almost
perfect, and the eyes, even there, seemed so radiant and tender. There
seemed a wealth of love and sympathy in those eyes that touched Lyle's
lonely heart, and her own eyes filled with tears, while she gazed as
if under a spell; then she asked in a sort of bewildered tone:

"Jack, I never saw her, did I?"

"Certainly not while you have been here," he replied, "I cannot say
whom you may have seen before that."

"Before I came here," repeated Lyle dreamily, laying down the picture
and preparing to go, "that is a sort of blank for the most part. It
seems as though this hateful life had obliterated everything before
it; the early years of my life seem buried out of sight."

"Try to resurrect them," said Jack, adding, "Keep your eyes and ears
open, and let me know results. Had I not better go home with you?"