Tom Gordon felt his face turning scarlet.  He was so disturbed for the moment that he could not frame any words.  He could only look at his employer and listen.  In that moment there flashed upon him the explanation of a little mystery which had troubled him for months.

The first time he looked into the face of Jennie Warmore, the suspicion came to him that somewhere and at some time, under far different circumstances, he had met her.  When sitting at her side in the dog-cart that afternoon, this suspicion became a certainty.  He strove to account for it on the theory that it was one of those accidental resemblances which all of us have met in our experience; but he could not make himself believe it to be the fact.

Strange that he never thought of associating her with that memorable incident in his own life!  He had sacredly preserved the chain and likeness; and it was the similarity between the latter and the budding young lady that caused the perplexity in his mind.  He wondered that he had not hit upon the explanation before it was flung in his face, as may be said.

By the time Mrs. Warmore had added her account to that of her husband, Tom had regained mastery of himself.

“And who was the lad that did all this?” he asked in the most innocent manner conceivable.

“That is the one feature about the affair that has always troubled me,” said the merchant.  “I have tried to find out, but have never been able to gain the first clew to his identity.  Mrs. Warmore was so frantic in mind that she did not think of the noble rescuer until he was gone.  Then she made inquiries, but no one seemed to know anything about him.”

“It distressed me,” added the lady; “for I felt he must think we were ungrateful.  We advertised in the papers, but it was useless.  I do not suppose we shall ever know who he was.”

“He may have been some poor boy in need of help,” added Mr. Warmore; “but so brave a lad as that is sure to get along.”

“I presume you remember the incident?” remarked Tom, turning toward the daughter.

“How can I ever forget it?” she asked in reply, with a shiver.  “I can feel that icy water even now, as it closed round me that wintry night.  It was too dark to see my rescuer’s face plainly, but I would know him if I met him fifty years from now.  He was remarkably handsome.”

“A boy of that age changes very much in a few years.”

“He could never change so as to grow out of my recollection,” said Jennie with a positiveness that made Tom Gordon smile.

“And of all the strange things that were ever done by a child,” said Mrs. Warmore, “none ever equalled what Jennie did while floating in the water.”

“Indeed, what could that be?”

“Tell him yourself, daughter.”

The young lady blushed and laughed.

“I don’t know what possessed me to do it.  I hardly think I was conscious of matters or responsible for all I did.  When the lad was fighting his way through the icy waters, I remember snatching a chain and locket containing my likeness from my neck, and twisting the chain about a button on his coat.  I had a feeling of wishing to do something that should help him to remember me.  After that I became wholly unconscious.”