“But how did you discover me?” she inquired, turning again to the visitor.
“Wandering over the world,” continued Mr. Tucker, “here to-day and there to-morrow, and unable to settle down anywhere, I returned to North-town about two years ago. Three days since, in a tramcar, I heard your name mentioned. I pricked up my ears and listened; when I heard that you were free I could hardly contain myself. I got into conversation with the lady and obtained your address, and after travelling fourteen hours here I am.”
“How very extraordinary!” said the widow. “I wonder who it could have been? Did she mention her name?”
Mr. Tucker shook his head. Inquiries as to the lady's appearance, age, and dress were alike fruitless. “There was a mist before my eyes,” he explained. “I couldn't realize it. I couldn't believe in my good fortune.”
“I can't think—” began Mrs. Bowman.
“What does it matter?” inquired Mr. Tucker, softly. “Here we are together again, with life all before us and the misunderstandings of long ago all forgotten.”
Mr. Clark cleared his throat preparatory to speech, but a peremptory glance from Mrs. Bowman restrained him.
“I thought you were dead,” she said, turning to the smiling Mr. Tucker. “I never dreamed of seeing you again.”
“Nobody would,” chimed in Mr. Clark. “When do you go back?”
“Back?” said the visitor. “Where?”