“Aye, for a good long time,” he said, shaking his head; “if not to this present hour. But I think the solitoode done her good. And she had a deal to mind in the way of poultry and the like, and minded of it, and come through. I wonder,” he said thoughtfully, “if you could see my Em’ly now, Mas’r Davy, whether you’d know her!”

“Is she so altered?” I inquired.

“I doen’t know. I see her ev’ry day, and doen’t know; But, odd-times, I have thowt so. A slight figure,” said Mr. Peggotty, looking at the fire, “kiender worn; soft, sorrowful, blue eyes; a delicate face; a pritty head, leaning a little down; a quiet voice and way⁠—timid a’most. That’s Em’ly!”

We silently observed him as he sat, still looking at the fire.