He found his most congenial associate in Mr. Lyttleton, the Factory Inspector of Thanshope and some surrounding towns, who lived in Thanshope--a middle-aged, highly educated man, who was attracted, the first time he saw him, by the keen yet sombre countenance of Mr. Mallory’s new manager; and who, when he learnt the outlines of Myles’s history, became still more interested in him, asked him to his house, and there introduced him to some young professional men, of a higher class, taken all in all, than those he had known in Eisendorf. The benefit was mutual, and Myles’s circle of acquaintances, if not of intimates, thus gradually extended. Almost everywhere he pleased, but everywhere there was the constant wonder why Heywood was so reserved, so almost melancholy in manner, and so sparing in speech; ‘much more like a Spanish grandee,’ observed a young doctor to Mr. Lyttleton, ‘than a man who has risen from the ranks of the working-men. I can’t make the fellow out.’ Very few people could make the fellow out, though many seemed to find a decided pleasure in trying to do so. Thus time passed until Sebastian and his wife came home, and then Myles found that ‘master and servant’ was indeed far from expressing the relation which Mallory wished to exist between them. Sebastian’s regard, once won, was dealt out with no niggard hand. He had got Myles to yield to his will; now it seemed he wished for more than respect--regard. The best part of Myles’s nature responded to the call; his liking warmed each day, till it grew to an affection, reserved and reticent indeed in outward show, but inwardly glowing as warmly as Sebastian himself could desire. The former ill-will had burnt itself out. Master and man were on a footing of perfect amity and accord. The more Myles heard of Sebastian’s plans, thoughts, and schemes, the better he liked them, and the wiser he felt them to be. He could appreciate them now; three years ago he could only have scoffed at them. He entered heartily into them all; he worked unremittingly till Sebastian declared he was afraid of his energy, and refused rest, saying he neither required nor desired it. Whatever his own private and personal hopes, thoughts, or wishes (if he had any), he kept them strictly and entirely to himself. Helena was very kind to him, and they were very good friends; she, woman like, always thinking of that background in his life, that hinted love-story, of which Sebastian had given her some glimpses. Occasionally she and her husband would speak of it. ‘Sebastian, you know him best, and what he is capable of. Do you think he is in love with that girl yet?’ ‘I think, most reverend matron, that he is in love with that girl--who, by-the-by, is rather older than yourself--yet.’ ‘Then why doesn’t he find her out and propose to her?’ ‘I have not asked him.’ ‘He cannot think she is too good for him.’ ‘I should not be surprised if he did.’ ‘Absurd!’