Nick's clothes. But as I was going out of the door, Breed hailed me.

"Marse Dave,"--it was the first time I had been called that,--"Marse
Dave, you ain't gwineter tell?"

"Tell what?" I asked.

"Bout'n de boat, and Marsa agwine away nights."

"No," said I, indignantly.

"I knowed you wahn't," said Breed. "You don' look as if you'd tell
anything."

We found the master pacing the lower gallery. At first he barely glanced
at me, and nodded. After a while he stopped, and began to put to me many
questions about my life: when and how I had lived. And to some of my
answers he exclaimed, "Good God!" That was all. He was a handsome man,
with hands like a woman's, well set off by the lace at his sleeves. He
had fine-cut features, and the white linen he wore was most becoming.

"David," said he, at length, and I noted that he lowered his voice,
"David, you seem a discreet lad. Pay attention to what I tell you. And
mark! if you disobey me, you will be well whipped. You have this house
and garden to play in, but you are by no means to go out at the front of
the house. And whatever you may see or hear, you are to tell no one. Do
you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I said.