uld
summon his servant at any time. The floor was bare of carpet, and
the chamber of decoration. But Mr. Fogo hated decoration, and, after
slinging his hammock and pushing the window open for air, gazed
around on the blistered ceiling and tattered wall-paper, rubbed his
hands, and announced that he should be very comfortable.

"Well, sir," said Caleb, as he turned to leave him for the night,
"arter all, comfort's a matter o' comparison, as St. La'rence said
when he turned round 'pon the gridiron. But the room's clane as
watter an' scourin' 'll make et--reminds me," he continued, with a
glance round, "o' what the contented clerk said by hes office-stool:
'Chairs es good,' said he, 'and sofies es better; but 'tes a great
thing to harbour no dust.' Any orders, sir?"

"No, I fancy--stop! Is my writing-case here?"

Caleb's anxiety took alarm.

"You bain't a-goin' to do et in writin' sir, surely!"

Mr. Fogo stared.

"Don't 'ee, sir--don't 'ee!"

"Really, Caleb, your behaviour is most extraordinary. What is it
that I am not to do?"

"Why, put et in writin', sir: they don't like et. Go up an' ax her
like a man--'Will 'ee ha' me? Iss or no?' That was ould Dick Jago's
way, an' I reckon _he_ knowed, havin' married sax wifes, wan time an'
another. But as for pen and ink--"

"You mistake me," interrupted Mr. Fogo, with a painful flush.
He paused irresolutely, and then added, in a softer tone, "Would you
mind taking a seat in the window here, Caleb? I have something to
say to you."

Caleb obeyed. For a moment or two there was silence as Mr. Fogo
stood up before his servant. The light of the candle on the chest
beside him but half revealed his face. When at last he spoke it was
in a heavy, mechanical tone.

"You guessed once," he said, "and rightly, that a woman was the cause
of my seclusion in this place. In such companionship as ours, it
would have been difficult--even had I wished it--to keep up the
ordinary relations of master and man; and more than once you have had
opportunities of satisfying whatever curiosity you may have felt
about my--my past. Believe me, Caleb, I have noted your forbearance,
and thank you for it."

Caleb moved uneasily, but was silent.

"But my life has been too lonely for me," pursued his master wearily.
"On general grounds one would not imagine the life of a successful
hermit to demand any rare qualifications. It is humiliating, but
even as a hermit I am a failure: for