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坔e send me that miniature Whom do▓es it represent” “You don’t mean to say● that you haven’t recognized it” “Most ce●rtainly I do.” “Man alive,▓ look in the glass.—Here.” Meriva●le held up the miniature in one ha

●nd and a pocket-mirror in the othe▓r.As closely as it is possible for one ●human countenance to resemble another, the face● of the picture resembled my reflection in t▓he glass. “Are you satisfied▓” demanded Merivale.—“Why, wh

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at ails y▓ou” he continued presently, as I did ●not answer.“You look as if you had▓ seen a ghost.Are you ill” ●“It has caused me quite a turn,” I ●replied.“It must indeed be a portrai●t of my father.But do you know—wai

e You●r f

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t—let me ▓tell you something.” What I told Meriva▓le I shall have also to tell the reader. I● could remember neither of my paren▓ts.As a child, I had lived in a dark▓ old house with a good old rabbi and his● wife—Dr.and

ather, eh?/span>

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Mrs.Hirsch.I had ne▓ver stopped to ask whether or not ▓they were my father and mother u●ntil I was eleven or twelve years of age.Then, ▓the question having been suggested by a▓ schoolmate, I had said, “D●r.Lesser”—Lesser being

? “My