e he shrank from it, the clearer the picture of
the happy life that he was resigning rose on his mind.

Allan's thoughts instantly reverted to the mystification about the new
steward which he had practiced on his friend when they were consulting
together in the cabin of the yacht. "Has he been turning it over in
his mind?" wondered Allan; "and is he beginning at last to suspect the
truth? I'll try him.--Talk as much nonsense, my dear fellow, as you
like," he rejoined, "but don't forget that you are engaged to see me
established at Thorpe Ambrose, and to give me your opinion of the new
steward."

Midwinter suddenly stepped forward again, close to Allan.

"I am not talking about your steward or your estate," he burst out
passionately; "I am talking about myself. Do you hear? Myself! I am not
a fit companion for you. You don't know who I am." He drew back into the
shadowy shelter of the bulwark as suddenly as he had come out from it.
"O God! I can't tell him," he said to himself, in a whisper.

For a moment, and for a moment only, Allan was surprised. "Not know
who you are?" Even as he repeated the words, his easy goodhumor got
the upper-hand again. He took up the whisky flask, and shook it
significantly. "I say," he resumed, "how much of the doctor's medicine
did you take while I was up in the mizzen-top?"

The light tone which he persisted in adopting stung Midwinter to the
last pitch of exasperation. He came out again into the light, and
stamped his foot angrily on the deck. "Listen to me!" he said. "You
don't know half the low things I have done in my lifetime. I have been a
tradesman's drudge; I have swept out the shop and put up the shutters;
I have carried parcels through the street, and waited for my master's
money at his customers' doors."

"I have never done anything half as useful," returned Allan, composedly.
"Dear old boy, what an industrious fellow you have been in your time!"

"I've been a vagabond and a blackguard in my time," returned the other,
fiercely; "I've been a street tumbler, a tramp, a gypsy's boy! I've
sung for half-pence with dancing dogs on the high-road! I've worn a
foot-boy's livery, and waited at table! I've been a common sailors'
cook, and a starving fisherman's Jack-of-all-trades! What has a
gentleman in your position in common with a man in mine? Can you take
_me_ into the society at Thorpe Ambrose? Why, my very name would be
a reproach to you. Fancy the faces of your new neighbors