He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. "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. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. His title has descended to Rowland: his estates to Aliva.
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