ather of his deep chair as listlessly as a tired
girl's. He watched the dry wood of the fire as it blazed and fell apart
and blazed up brightly again, yet his eyes did not seem to see
it--their absorbed gaze was inward.

The distant door of the room swung open, but the man did not hear, and,
his head and face clear cut like a cameo against the dark leather, hands
stretched nervelessly along the arms of the chair, eyes gazing gloomily
into the heart of the flame, he was still. A young man, brilliant with
strength, yet with a worn air about him, and deep circles under his
eyes, stood inside the room and looked at him a long minute--those two
in the silence. The fire crackled cheerfully and the old man sighed.

"Father!" said the young man by the door.

In a second the whole pose changed, and he sat intense, staring, while
the son came toward him and stood across the rug, against the dark wood
of the Florentine fireplace, a picture of young manhood which any father
would he proud to own.

"Of course, I don't know if you want me, father," he said, "but I've
come to tell you that I'll be a good boy, if you do."

The gentle, half-joking manner was very winning, and the play of his
words was trembling with earnest. The older man's face shone as if lamps
were lighted behind his eyes.

"If I want you, Ted!" he said, and held out his hand.

With a quick step forward the lad caught it, and then, with quick
impulsiveness, as if his childhood came back to him on the flood of
feeling unashamed, bent down and kissed him. As he stood erect again he
laughed a little, but the muscles of his face were working, and there
were tears in his eyes. With a swift movement he had drawn a chair, and
the two sat quiet a moment, looking at each other in deep and silent
content to be there so, together.

"Yesterday I thought I'd never see you again this way," said the boy;
and his father only smiled at him, satisfied as yet without words. The
son went on, his eager, stirred feelings crowding to his lips. "There
isn't any question great enough, there isn't any quarrel big enough, to
keep us apart, I think, father. I found that out this afternoon. When a
chap has a father like you, who has given him a childhood and a youth
like mine--" The young voice stopped, trembling. In a moment he had
mastered himself. "I'll probably never be able to talk to you like this
again, so I want to say it all now. I want to say that I know, beyond
doubt, that yo