"I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Over these hung levels, bevels, squares, and other instruments of measurement. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. After that night she made it a habit. She had agonized over it for weeks.
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