‘Between five and six years old,’ said Clemency; speaking very distinctly.
‘I think I heard you mention Dr. Jeddler’s name, as I came in,’ inquired the stranger. ‘That bill reminds me of him; for I happen to know something of that story, by hearsay, and through certain connexions of mine.—Is the old man living?’
‘Yes, he’s living, sir,’ said Clemency.
‘Much changed?’
‘Since when, sir?’ returned Clemency, with remarkable emphasis and expression.
‘Since his daughter—went away.’
‘Yes! he’s greatly changed since then,’ said Clemency. ‘He’s grey and old, and hasn’t the same way with him at all; but, I think he’s happy now. He has taken on with his sister since then, and goes to see her very often. That did him good, directly. At first, he was sadly broken down; and it was enough to make one’s heart bleed, to see him wandering about, railing at the world; but a great change for the better came over him after a year or two, and then he began to like to talk about his lost daughter, and to praise her, ay and the world too! and was never tired of saying, with the tears in his poor eyes, how beautiful and good she was. He had forgiven her then. That was about the same time as Miss Grace’s marriage. Britain, you remember?’
Mr. Britain remembered very well.
‘The sister is married then,’ returned the stranger. He paused for some time before he asked, ‘To whom?’
Clemency narrowly escaped oversetting the tea-board, in her emotion at this question.