entertained by a mutual communication of observations that seemed greatly to relax the unbending features of the solitary man; but yet he preserved a profound silence relative to his own concerns. Fruit, eggs and salad, were their only refreshments, with which Ferdinand was perfectly content.
When night came, and Ferdinand retired to his apartment, he met Francis on the stairs. The old man stopped; "Are you going to live here, Sir?" asked he.
"For a few days only," replied the other.
"I am sorry for it," said the old man.—"God knows we want company."
"I think so," answered Ferdinand, "for your master must have a horrid time of it here."
"Horrid indeed! You know all then, Sir."
"No, indeed, I know nothing; your master keeps his own secrets, and I do not presume to be inquisitive, though certainly every circumstance about this mansion and its master must raise strange conjectures, and inspire curiosity." The voice of the Solitary
