is was already hanging over my head. That one act brought it
down.

XI.

He came in, and stood modestly waiting at the door.

After making him take a chair, I began by saying that I had received
his message, and that, acting on my uncle's advice, I must abstain from
interfering in the question of his leaving, or not leaving, his place.
Having in this way established a reason for sending for him, I alluded
next to the loss that he had sustained, and asked if he had any prospect
of finding out the person who had entered his room in his absence. On
his reply in the negative, I spoke of the serious results to him of
the act of destruction that had been committed. "Your last chance of
discovering your parents," I said, "has been cruelly destroyed."

He smiled sadly. "You know already, miss, that I never expected to
discover them."

I ventured a little nearer to the object I had in view.

"Do you never think of your mother?" I asked. "At your age, she might be
still living. Can you give up all hope of finding her, without feeling
your heart ache?"

"If I have done her wrong, in believing that she deserted me," he
answered, "the heart-ache is but a poor way of expressing the remorse
that I should feel."

I ventured nearer still.

"Even if you were right," I began--"even it she did desert you--"

He interrupted me sternly. "I would not cross the street to see her,"
he said. "A woman who deserts her child is a monster. Forgive me for
speaking so, miss! When I see good mothers and their children it maddens
me when I think of what _my_ childhood was."

Hearing these words, and watching him attentively while he spoke, I
could see that my silence would be a mercy, not a crime. I hastened to
speak of other things.

"If you decide to leave us," I said, "when shall you go?"

His eyes softened instantly. Little by little the color faded out of his
face as he answered me.

"The General kindly said, when I spoke of leaving my place--" His voice
faltered, and he paused to steady it. "My master," he resumed, "said
that I need not keep my new employer waiting by staying for the
customary month, provided--provided you were willing to dispense with my
services."

So far, I had succeeded in controlling myself. At that reply I felt
my resolution failing me. I saw how he suffered; I saw how manfully he
struggled to conceal it.

"I am not willing," I said. "I am sorry--very, very sorry to lose you.
But I will do anything that