CIIAP. XII.—MY MASTER’S STORY.

“YT is no joyful tale,” said my master ; “but now
methinks He has heard of my childhood

in the outskirts of that great Yorkshire town, where

 

my sister and I would ramble together alone, or
under my dear mother’s guidance ; he knows how
happy we three were together ; but we were four
—did I ever mention my father ?”

“ Never, sir.”

“ He lived with us, although we saw not much of
him, for he was frequently absent, sometimes on
pleasure, oftener on business. He was a dancing-
master.”

This announcement was a shock to me: could
Mr. Hurst be come of one so frivolous? I turned
to look at him, as though I expected to find him
changed. He looked neither changed nor ashamed;
he still sat gazing out dreamily seaward, with a calm
and somewhat sad expression, as he went on—

“Tt was not what he was brought up to; he had