Among the company was an old friend of ours, Dr. Spenlove, who had attained an eminent position in London. The hundred pounds which Mr. Gordon had left for his acceptance had proved the turning point in his career, and he was at the top of the tree in his profession. A man as kind-hearted as he was of necessity mixed up with many benevolent and public movements. Aaron, whom till this day he had never met, had subscribed to some of the charities in which he was interested, and he gladly availed himself of the opportunity of becoming acquainted with him. When the company were assembled in the reception room of Aaron's house Dr. Spenlove happened to be standing next to Mr. Moss, whom he had not seen since he left Portsmouth. Except for the mark of years, which did not tell heavily upon him, Mr. Moss was the same jovial-featured, bright-eyed man as ever; Dr. Spenlove had altered; the fashion of his hair was different, the thoughtful lines in his face had deepened, he had grown stouter. So that when the two looked at each other the first sign of recognition came from Dr. Spenlove. "If I am not mistaken," he said, "we have met before." Mr. Moss, looking at him, was puzzled for a moment. "In Portsmouth," added Dr. Spenlove, jogging his memory. "Dr. Spenlove?" "The same." They shook hands. "It is strange," said Mr. Moss, "that after the lapse of years we should meet in this house." "Why is our meeting in this house strange?" inquired Dr. Spenlove. The question recalled Mr. Moss to himself. The one incident which formed a link between them was that connected with a poor woman and her babe whom they rescued from impending death on a snowy night twenty years ago. But he had not made Dr. Spenlove acquainted with the name of the man to whom he had intrusted the child, and upon this point his lips were sealed. "I mean," he said, "that the circumstances of our meeting here and in Portsmouth are different." "Widely different," observed Dr. Spenlove. "I have never forgotten that sad night, have never forgotten your kindness." "Not worth mentioning." "But worth bearing in remembrance, as all acts of kindness are. I have heard nothing more of the matter from that time to this. What became of the child, Mr. Moss?" "She died very shortly afterward. A happy release." "Death is a happy release to many. It, was hardly to be expected that the child would live long after the exposure on such a night. She was almost buried in the snow. And the mother, Mr. Moss?" "I have heard nothing of her whatever." "Nor have I."