e
door for us.

The only disorder in the groom's room was produced, to our surprise, by
the groom's books and papers.

Cheap editions of the English poets, translations of Latin and Greek
classics, handbooks for teaching French and German "without a master,"
carefully written "exercises" in both languages, manuals of shorthand,
with more "exercises" in that art, were scattered over the table, round
the central object of a reading-lamp, which spoke plainly of studies
by night. "Why, what is all this?" cried the General. "Are you going
to leave me, Michael, and set up a school?" Michael answered in sad,
submissive tones. "I try to improve myself, sir--though I sometimes lose
heart and hope." "Hope of what?" asked my uncle. "Are you not content to
be a servant? Must you rise in the world, as the saying is?" The groom
shrank a little at that abrupt question. "If I had relations to care
for me and help me along the hard ways of life," he said, "I might be
satisfied, sir, to remain as I am. As it is, I have no one to think
about but myself--and I am foolish enough sometimes to look beyond
myself."

So far, I had kept silence; but I could no longer resist giving him
a word of encouragement--his confession was so sadly and so patiently
made. "You speak too harshly of yourself," I said; "the best and
greatest men have begun like you by looking beyond themselves." For a
moment our eyes met. I admired the poor lonely fellow trying so modestly
and so bravely to teach himself--and I did not care to conceal it. He
was the first to look away; some suppressed emotion turned him deadly
pale. Was I the cause of it? I felt myself tremble as that bold question
came into my mind. The General, with one sharp glance at me, diverted
the talk (not very delicately, as I thought) to the misfortune of
Michael's birth.

"I have heard of your being deserted in your infancy by some woman
unknown," he said. "What has become of the things you were wrapped in,
and the letter that was found on you? They might lead to a discovery,
one of these days." The groom smiled. "The last master I served thought
of it as you do, Sir. He was so good as to write to the gentleman who
was first burdened with the care of me--and the things were sent to me
in return."

He took up an unlocked leather bag, which opened by touching a brass
knob, and showed us the shawl, the linen (sadly faded by time) and the
letter. We were puzzled by the shawl. My uncle, who had ser