a nature I should soon be confronted with, and
how terrible must be the temper of a man whose resentments asked
for such aliment to maintain them! I stole away abashed at my own
intrusiveness, and feeling that I was rightfully punished by the misery
that overwhelmed me. How differently now did all the splendor appear to
me as I retraced my steps! how defiantly I gazed on that magnificence
which seemed to insult the poverty I had just quitted! What a contrast
to the nurtured spitefulness of his conduct was my poor mother's careful
preservation of a picture representing my father in his uniform. A badly
painted thing it was; but with enough of likeness to recall him. And
as such, in defiance of neglect and ill-usage and insult, she preserved
it,--a memorial, not of happier days, but of a time when she dreamed
of happiness to come. While I was thus thinking, seeking in my mind
comparisons between them, which certainly redounded but little to his
credit, Nixon came up to me, saying, "Oh, Master Digby, we 've been
looking for you in every direction. Sir Roger has asked over and over
why you have not been to see him; and I 'm afraid you 'll find him
displeased at your delay."

"I 'm ready now," said I, drily, and followed him.

My father was in his study, lying on a sofa, and cutting the leaves of
a new book as I entered; and he did not interrupt the operation to offer
me his hand.

"So, sir," said he, calmly and coldly, "you have taken your time to
present yourself to me? Apparently you preferred making acquaintance
with the house and the grounds."

"I am very sorry, sir," I began; "but I did not know you had risen.
Nixon told me about one or two--"

"Indeed! I was not aware that you and Mr. Nixon had been discussing my
habits. Come nearer; nearer still. What sort of dress is this? Is it a
smock-frock you have on?"

"No, sir. It's a blouse to keep my jacket clean. I have got but one."

"And these shoes; are they of your own making?"

"No, sir. I could n't make even as good as these."

"You are a very poor-looking object, I must say. What was Antoine about
that he did n't, at least, make you look like a gentleman, eh? Can you
answer me that?"

"No, sir, I cannot"

"Nor I, either," said he, sighing. "Have you been equally neglected
inside as out? Have you learned to read?"

"Yes, sir."

"And to write?"

"Yes, sir."

"Write my name, then, there, on that piece of paper, and let me see it."

I drew nigh, and