which more
than repaid me. Some men, of course, don't want affection. They only
care for obedience, and not at all how it is attained.

For myself I can see no pleasure in being merely dreaded. I should hate
to see anything--man, woman, servant, dog, anything--start in terror at
my footstep; hate to feel I brought gloom wherever I came, and left
relief behind me.

Nous was extremely quick-witted, and it used to amuse me enormously the
way he behaved when, as sometimes happened, I trod upon his foot
accidentally, or fell over him in the dark. Knowing that he had never
had a voluntary blow from me in his life, he would leap
enthusiastically over me and lick my hands after his first yelp, as
much as to say--

"Yes; I know it was quite an accident. I know, I am sure you didn't
mean it."

We had been inseparable, he and I, for these ten years. He had walked
by my side, eaten from my plate, slept on my bed, and his death now in
my service left a heavy, jagged-edged wound. As I sat there in the
corner of the couch, with my hand absently stroking the glossy black
coat, there came the very soft jarring of a key in the lock.

I glanced towards Howard's door. The sound continued. The key was being
very slowly and gently turned, and then the handle was grasped and
cautiously revolved. He evidently hoped I was asleep, and wanted to
enter without disturbing me. I sat in silence with my eyes on the door,
which slowly opened.

Howard stood on the threshold. He saw I was sitting there facing him,
and he seemed to pause, unable to come forward or retreat. He did not
look particularly happy as a result of his work. His face was pallid
and haggard. Fool! to have flung away a valuable friend, and shackled
himself with the fear of another man!

"What do you want?" I said, as he did not move.

"My manuscripts, Victor. I left them here."

"There they are on the table. They are quite safe. Did you think I
should act as you have? Come and take them if you want them."

He had to pass close before me to do so, and I watched his nervous,
hurried approach to the table, and the trembling of his hand as he
gathered up the papers, with contemptuous eyes.

When he had grasped them all in his hand he gave an involuntary side
look at me and the motionless form beside me--a look that he seemed
unable to abstain from giving, though against his will. I met his
glance, and he hurried away back to his own door, and went through it
as a leper wil