He was an easy, well-knit figure of a man in the
prime of life. His face, much browned by the sun, was shaded by a
quantity of dark hair; and he wore a moustache. His beer being set
before him, he filled out a glass, and drank, good-humouredly, to
the house; adding, as he put the tumbler down again:
'It's a new house, is it not?'
'Not particularly new, sir,' replied Mr. Britain.
'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.
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