It was Edith's first visit there, and a feeling of awe came over
her as she crossed the threshold of the mysterious room. Then a
cry of joyful surprise burst from her lips as she saw how pleasant
it was in there, and how tastefully the chamber was fitted up. Not
another apartment in the house could compare with it, and Edith
felt that she could be happy there all her life, were it not for
the iron lattice, which gave it somewhat the appearance of a
prison.
"Here you are," cried Nina, dragging her across the floor to the
portrait of the little child which had so interested her during
Arthur's absence. "This is she--this is you,--this is Miggie," and
Nina jumped up and down, while Edith gazed again upon the sweet
baby face she had once seen in the drawing-room.
"There is a slight resemblance between you," said Arthur, glancing
from one to the other, "Had she lived, her eyes must have been
like yours; but look, this was Nina's father."
Edith did not answer him. Indeed, she scarcely knew what he was
saying, for a nameless fascination chained her to the spot, a
feeling as if she were beholding her other self, as if she had
leaped backward many years, and was seated again upon the nursery
floor like the child before her.
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