"Then he is still alive?"
"He was when I sailed from New York," I assented.
Tears which he could not repress forced themselves from the old man's eyes and flowed down his cheeks. They were tears of joy and relief.
"O Roderick!" he murmured; "dear Roderick, son of my heart, you are upon the green earth still, and I feared you had left it for evermore!"
"Moreover," I went on, "you are altogether wrong in supposing he is married again."
"What's that you say?" he cried joyfully. "Living and still a widower?"
"Living and still a widower."
"You are sure of that?"
"Quite sure."