was
twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath,
and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and
bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. A stiff,
formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate
buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and
skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by
the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left
arm.

Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to
know his business.

"I'm almost afraid to state it," faltered the other; "but, may I ask
whether Mr. Wood, the carpenter, who formerly resided here, is still
living?"

"If you feel any anxiety on his account, Sir, I'm happy to be able to
relieve it," answered Kneebone, readily. "My good friend, Owen
Wood,--Heaven preserve him!--_is_ still living. And, for a man who'll
never see sixty again, he's in excellent preservation, I assure you."

"You delight me with the intelligence," said the stranger, entirely
recovering his cheerfulness of look.

"I began to fear, from his having quitted the old place, that some
misfortune must have befallen him."

"Quite the contrary," rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing
good-humouredly. "Everything has prospered with him in an extraordinary
manner. His business has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped
into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky
speculation in South-Sea stock,--made it, too, where so many others have
lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number--ha! ha! In a
word, Sir, Mr. Wood is now in very affluent circumstances. He stuck to
the shop as long as it was necessary, and longer, in my opinion. When he
left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or
rather--to deal frankly with you,--he placed me in them rent-free, for,
I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if
it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been. Mr. Wood,
Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would
be the happiest, were it not that--" and he hesitated.

"Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly.

"His wife is still living," returned Kneebone, drily.

"I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. "But,
it strikes me, I've heard that Mrs. Wood was once a favourite of yours."

"So she was," replie