Again there was something familiar in the man's tones, but surely that tall, robust, and well-dressed man was a stranger.
"No, sir," replied Ray, after scrutinizing him for a few minutes, "I do not think I do, though your voice seems familiar."
"Four years such as I have seen make a vast difference in a man. No wonder you do not know me," the gentleman remarked, somewhat sadly.
Four years! Those two words let a flood of light stream into Ray's mind.
"Tom!" exclaimed he; "can it be possible it is you?"
"Yes; it is no other," the man replied, with a pleasant laugh. "I don't wonder you are surprised to see me."
"I certainly am," replied Ray, with heartiness, "and I'm glad you have returned. But where is Dick?"
"He is dead," answered Tom, solemnly; "but it is a long story I have to tell you. It can wait till you tell me of the home friends, and where they all are. I got into New York a few days ago, and securing a leave of absence I started for my native State. Reaching Afton this afternoon, I went down to the Forge to find the mills in ruins, and half the tenement houses empty. I ran in with a man who told me the mills were burned, but he knew nothing about the Branfords who used to live there, except that was the name of one of the men who had been sent to prison for helping to fire the mills. I then took a boat and came down here to see if I could learn anything of your whereabouts. I knew it was not under the pleasantest circumstances that Dick and I left home, but I am thankful to say that old life has been abandoned, I trust, forever."
"You are a Christian, then, Tom?" Ray asked, eagerly.
"I am thankful I have a Saviour," he answered, reverently.