Seeing this, Moses turned to his master.
“Massa,” he said. “You don’ want nuffin’ more to-night, I s’pose?”
“No, Moses, nothing.”
“An’ is you quite easy in your mind?”
“Quite,” replied the hermit with his peculiar little smile.
“Den it would be wuss dan stoopid for me to be oneasy, so I’ll bid ye bof good-night, an’ turn in.”
In this truly trustful as well as philosophical state of mind, the negro retired to his familiar couch in the inner cave, and went to sleep.
Nigel and the hermit sat up for some time longer.
“Van der Kemp,” said the former, after a pause, “I—I trust you won’t think me actuated by impertinent curiosity if I venture to ask you about—the—photograph that I think you—”
“My young friend!” interrupted the hermit, taking the case in question from his breast-pocket; “I should rather apologise to you for having appeared to make any mystery of it—and yet,” he added, pausing as he was about to open the case, “I have not shown it to a living soul since the day that— Well, well,—why should I hesitate? It is all I have left of my dead wife and child.”