"I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. She got up and unlocked the door. " "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly.
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