Here a small table was now spread.
This room was cosy. I had hardly seen it before. Low bookcases
lined it on every side; and above the bookcases hung maps;
maps of the city and of various parts of the world where
missionary stations were established. Along with the maps, a
few engravings and fine photographs. I remember one of the
Colosseum, which I used to study; and a very beautiful
engraving of Jerusalem. But the one that fixed my eyes this
first evening, perhaps because Miss Cardigan placed me in
front of it, was a picture of another sort. It was a good
photograph, and had beauty enough besides to hold my eyes. It
showed a group of three or four. A boy and girl in front,
handsome, careless, and well-to-do, passing along, with
wandering eyes. Behind them and disconnected from them by her
dress and expression, a tall woman in black robes with a baby
on her breast. The hand of the woman was stretched out with a
coin which she was about dropping into an iron-bound coffer
which stood at the side of the picture.
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