'However on earth did you get that?' I cried. 'Why, it's my mother's
picture!'
I think I have never felt more startled than I did at that moment. After
all the thoughts of yesterday, after my dream of last night, after all
my recollection of my mother's words to me, and her prayers for
me--after all this, to see her dear eyes looking at me from the wall of
the house of this unknown man, in this remote, out-of-the-world spot,
almost frightened me.
I did not realize at first that my host was almost as much startled as I
was.
'Your mother!' he repeated; 'your mother! Surely not! Do you mean to
tell me,' he said, laying his hand on my arm, 'that your name is
Villiers?'
'Of course it is,' I said; 'Jack Villiers.'
'Nellie, Nellie,' he cried, for she had gone upstairs to the children,
'come down at once; who do you think this is, Nellie? You will never
guess. It is Jack Villiers, the little Jack you and I used to know so
well. Why, do you know,' he said, 'our own little Jack was named after
you; he was indeed, and we haven't heard of you for years--never since
your dear mother died.
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