Loving her husband as well as such as she could love, she was ever ready to forgive when she saw any indications of reform on his part, and as during all their journey he had never once given her cause for offense, she began to attribute his former delinquencies wholly to ’Lena; and when he proposed a tour to Europe she readily sanctioned it, hoping that time and absence would remove from his mind all thoughts of the beautiful girl, who she thought was her rival.  Still, though she would not confess it, in her heart she did not believe ’Lena guilty except so far as a desire to attract Mr. Graham’s attention would make her so.

For this belief she had a good and potent reason.  The daguerreotype which had caused so much trouble was still in her possession, guarded carefully from her husband, who never suspecting the truth, supposed he had lost it.  Frequently had Mrs. Graham examined the picture, each time discovering some point of difference between it and its supposed original.  Still she never for a moment doubted that it was ’Lena, until an event occurred which convinced her of the contrary, leaving her, meantime, more mystified than ever.

On their way home from Havana, Mr. Graham had proposed stopping a day in Cincinnati, taking rooms at the Burnet House, where the first individual whom they saw at the table was our old acquaintance, Joel Slocum.  Not finding his business as profitable in Lexington as he could wish, he had recently removed to Cincinnati.  Here his aspiring mind had prompted him to board at the Burnet House, until he’d seen the “Ohio elephant,” when he intended retiring to one of the cheaper boarding-houses.  The moment he saw Mr. Graham, a grin of recognition became visible on his face, bringing to view a row of very long and very yellow teeth, apparently unacquainted with the use of either water or brush.

“Who is that loafer who seems to know you?” asked Mrs. Graham, directing her husband’s attention toward Joel.

Mr. Graham replied that “he had once seen him in Lexington, and that he took daguerreotypes.”

The moment dinner was over, Joel came forward, going through with one of his wonderful bows, and exclaiming, with his peculiar nasal twang, “Now you don’t say this is you.  And this is your old woman, I s’pose.  Miss Graham, how-dy-du?  Darned if you don’t look like Aunt Nancy, only she’s lean and you are squatty.  S’posin’ you give me a call and get your picters taken.  I didn’t get an all-killin’ sight of practice in Lexington, for the plaguy greenhorns didn’t know enough to patternize me, and ’taint a tarnation sight better here; but you,” turning to Mr. Graham, “employed me once, and pretended to be suited.”