He never spoke to me of his family--never alluded to the events of his past life, or the scenes in which his childhood had been spent.

He talked of sorrow and sickness--of chastisements in the school of adversity, in general terms; but he never revealed the cause of these trials, or why a young man of his attainments was reduced to a situation so far below the station he ought to have held in society.
I was half inclined to quarrel with him for so pertinaciously concealing from me circumstances which I thought I had a right to know; and in which, when known, I was fully prepared to sympathize.

A thousand times I was on the point of remonstrating with him on this undue reserve, which appeared so foreign to his frank, open nature, but feelings of delicacy restrained me.
What right had _I_ to pry into his secrets?
My impertinent curiosity might reopen wounds which time had closed.

There were, doubtless, good reasons for his withholding the information I coveted.
Yet, I must confess that I had an intense curiosity--a burning desire to know the history of his past life.

For many long months my wishes remained ungratified.
At this time I felt an ardent desire to see something more of life, to mingle in the gay scenes of the great world around me.