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He obeyed, in the old mechanically submissive manner, without

pausing in his work.

"You know me, my dear friend? Think again. This is not your

proper occupation. Think, dear friend!"

Nothing would induce him to speak more. He looked up, for an

instant at a time, when he was requested to do so; but, no

persuasion would extract a word from him. He worked, and worked,

and worked, in silence, and words fell on him as they would have

fallen on an echoless wall, or on the air. The only ray of hope

that Mr. Lorry could discover, was, that he sometimes furtively

looked up without being asked. In that, there seemed a faint

expression of curiosity or perplexity--as though he were trying

to reconcile some doubts in his mind.