The pictures were those of Lady Sioned Penrhyn and--himself!
With the same apparent lack of mental prompting as on the night in the
gallery when he had addressed Weir with the name of her grandmother,
he raised the picture of the woman to his lips and kissed it fondly.
Then he laid it down and opened the packet. Within were a thick piece
of manuscript and a bundle of letters. He pressed his hand lovingly
over the closely written sheets of the manuscript, but laid them down
and gave his attention to the letters. They were roughly tied into a
bundle with a bit of string. He slipped the string off and glanced at
the address of the letter which lay uppermost. The ink, though faded,
was legible enough--"Lady Sioned-ap-Penrhyn, Constantinople." He
opened the letter and glanced at the signature. The note was signed
with the initials of his grandfather, Lionel Dartmouth. They were
peculiarly formed, and were in many of the library books.
He turned back to the first page. As he did so he was aware of a
new sensation, which seemed, however, but a natural evolution in his
present mental and spiritual exaltation.
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