ger; just as incapable of
laughing or even smiling. I often remarked that her eyes were fixed
unremittingly on his face; and sometimes I found myself possessed of the
childish idea that my father was always so grave in his behavior because
he knew that his mother was gazing at him. If afterward their eyes met
by chance, it seemed as if they had discovered each other's
thoughts--some old, long-buried thoughts, of which they were the
guardians; and I often saw how my old grandmother would rise from her
everlasting knitting, and come to father as he sat among us thus
abstracted, scarce remarking that mother, Lorand, and I were beside him,
caressing and pestering him; she would kiss his forehead, and his
countenance would seem to change in a moment: he would become more
affectionate, and begin to converse with us; thereupon grandmother would
kiss him afresh and return to her knitting.

It is only now that I recall all these incidents. At that time I found
nothing remarkable in them.

One evening our whole family circle was surprised by the unusually good
humor that had come over father. To each one of us he was very tender,
very affectionate; entered into a long conversation with Lorand, asked
him of his school-work, imparted to him information on subjects of which
as yet he had but a faulty knowledge; took me on his knee and smoothed
my head; addressed questions to me in Latin, and praised me for
answering them correctly; kissed our dear mother more than once, and
after supper was over related merry tales of the old days. When we began
to laugh at them, he laughed too. It was such a pleasure to me to have
seen my father laugh once. It was such a novel sensation that I almost
trembled with joy.

Only our old grandmother remained serious. The brighter father's face
became, the more closely did those white eyebrows contract. Not for a
single moment did she take her eyes off father's face; and, as often as
he looked at her with his merry, smiling countenance, a cold shudder ran
through her ancient frame. Nor could she let father's unusual gayety
pass without comment.

"How good-humored you are to-day, my son!"

"To-morrow I shall take the children to the country," he answered; "the
prospect of that has always been a source of great joy to me."

We were to go to the country! The words had a pleasant sound for us
also. We ran to father, to kiss him for his kindness; how happy he had
made us by this promise! His face showe