Excepting the Bible, Snowdon seldom made use of books either for inquiry or amusement. Very imperfectly educated in his youth, he had never found leisure for enriching his mind in the ordinary way until it was too late; as an old man he had so much occupation in his thoughts that the printed page made little appeal to him. Till quite recently he had been in the habit of walking for several hours daily, always choosing poor districts; now that his bodily powers were sensibly failing him, he passed more and more of his time in profound brooding, so forgetful of external things that Jane, on her return from work, had more than once been troubled by noticing that he had taken no midday meal. It was in unconsciousness such as this that he sat when his son Joseph, receiving no reply to his knock, opened the door and entered; but that his eyes were open, the posture of his body and the forward drooping of his head would have made it appear that he slept. Joseph stepped towards him, and at length the old man looked up. He gazed at his visitor first unintelligently, then with wonder and growing emotion. ‘Jo?—Jo, at last? You were in my mind only a few minutes ago, but I saw you as a boy.’ He rose from the chair and held out both his hands, trembling more than they were wont to do. ‘I almost wonder you knew me,’ said Joseph. ‘It’s seventeen years since we saw each other. It was all Jane could do to remember me.’ ‘Jane? Where have you seen her? At the house in the Close?’ ‘Yes. It was me she went to see, but she didn’t know it. I’ve just been married to Miss Peckover. Sit down again, father, and let’s talk over things quietly.’ ‘Married to Miss Peckover?’ repeated the old man, as if making an effort to understand the words. ‘Then why didn’t you come here before?’ Joseph gave the explanation which he had already devised for the benefit of his daughter. His manner of speaking was meant to be very respectful, but it suggested that he looked upon the hearer as suffering from feebleness of mind, as well as of body. He supplemented his sentences with gestures and smiles, glancing about the room meantime with looks of much curiosity. ‘So you’ve been living here a long time, father? It was uncommonly good of you to take care of my girl. I dare say you’ve got so used to having her by you, you wouldn’t care for her to go away now?’ ‘Do you wish to take Jane away?’ Michael inquired gravely. ‘No, no; not I! Why, it’s nothing but her duty to keep you company and be what use she can. She’s happy enough, that I can see. Well, well; I’ve gone through a good deal since the old days, father, and I’m not what you used to know me. I’m gladder than I can say to find you so easy in your old age. Neither Mike nor me did our duty by you, that’s only too sure. I wish I could have the time back again; but what’s the good of that? Can you tell me anything about Mike?’ ‘Yes. He died in Australia, about four years ago.’