'Soon after this we were married, Nellie and I, and it was your dear
mother who made our little home bright and pretty for us, and who was
there to welcome us to it. How we loved her then, how we love her still!
'When you were quite a tiny child, she would bring you to see us, and
Nellie used often to say you were the dearest, prettiest child she had
ever known!'
'I don't remember it,' I said.
'No, you would be too young to remember it; you were only three years
old when your father left London for a parish in the country, and soon
after came the news of his death, and only a year or so later we heard
your mother was gone too. It was a sorrowful day, Jack, when that news
came.
'We often wondered about you; we heard that you had gone to live with an
aunt, but we did not even know her name. We tried to find out more, but
we knew no one in the place where you lived, and we never heard what had
become of you.'
'How strange that I should have been brought here to meet you!' I said.
'No, not strange,' he said reverently; 'it is the hand of God.
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