more than I could do for you; and I think I shall yet live to see you defeat the designs of your enemies, and acknowledge the services of your friends.” “Alas!” said Edmund, “I see little prospect of that!” “I see,” said Joseph, “something that persuades me you are designed for great things; and I perceive that things are working about to some great end: have courage, my Master, my heart beats strangely high upon your account!” “You make me smile,” said Edmund. “I am glad to see it, sir; may you smile all the rest of your life!” “I thank your honest affection,” returned Edmund, “though it is too partial to me. You had better go to bed, however; if it is known that you visit me here, it will be bad for us both.” “So I will presently; but, please God, I will come here again to-morrow night, when all the family are a-bed; and I will tell you some things that you never yet heard.” “But pray tell me,” said Edmund, “where does that door lead to?” “Upon a passage that ends in a staircase that leads to the lower rooms; and there is likewise a door out of that passage into the dining-room.” “And what rooms are there below stairs,” said Edmund? “The same as above,” replied he. “Very well; then I wish you a good night, we will talk further to-morrow.” “Aye, to-morrow night; and in this place, my dear master.” “Why do you call me your master? I never was, nor ever can be, your master.” “God only knows that,” said the good old man; “good-night, and heaven bless you!” “Good-night, my worthy friend!” Joseph withdrew, and Edmund returned to the other door, and attempted several times to open it in vain; his hands were benumbed and tired; at length he gave over. He made a