She had a
reason for wishing to be back in good time to-night; it was
Wednesday, and on Wednesday evening there was wont to come a
visitor, who sat for a couple of hours in her grandfather's room and
talked, talked--the most interesting talk Jane had ever heard or
could imagine. A latch-key admitted her; she ran up to the second
floor. A voice from the front-room caught her ear; certainly not
_his_ voice--it was too early--but that of some unusual visitor.
She was on the point of entering her own chamber, when the other
door opened, and somebody exclaimed, 'Ah, here she is!'
The speaker was an old gentleman, dressed in black, bald, with small
and rather rugged features; his voice was pleasant. A gold chain and
a bunch of seals shone against his waistcoat, also a pair of
eye-glasses. A professional man, obviously. Jane remembered that she
had seen him once before, about a year ago, when he had talked with
her for a few minutes, very kindly.
'Will you come in here, Jane?' her grandfather's voice called to
her.
Snowdon had changed much. Old age was heavy upon his shoulders, and
had even produced a slight tremulousness in his hands; his voice
told the same story of enfeeblement.
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