integrity; a brave man facing the world; firm as an immovable rock;
serene as an unblemished morning.

Livingstone had never taken in before how fine it was. He had at one
time even felt aggrieved by his father's act; now he was suddenly
conscious of a thrill of pride in him.

If he were only living! He himself was now worth--! Suddenly that
lantern-slide shot before his eyes and shut out the noble figure
standing there.

Livingstone's mind reverted to his own career.

He was a young man in business; living in a cupboard; his salary a bare
pittance; yet he was rich; he had hope and youth; family and friends.
Heavens! how rich he was then! It made the man in the chair poor now to
feel how rich he had been then and had not known it. He looked back at
himself with a kind of envy, strange to him, which gave him a pain.

He saw himself again at Christmas. He was back at the little home which
his father had taken when he lost the old place. He saw himself
unpacking his old trunk, taking out from it the little things he had
brought as presents, with more pride than he had ever felt before, for
he had earned them himself. Each one represented sacrifice, thought,
affection. He could see again his father's face lit up with pride and
his mother's radiant with delight in his achievement. His mother was
handing him her little presents,--the gloves she had knit for him
herself with so much joy; the shaving-case she had herself embroidered;
the cup and saucer from the old tea-service that had belonged to his
great-grandfather and great-grandmother and which had been given his
mother and father when they were married. He glanced up as she laid the
delicate piece of Sevres before him, and caught her smile--That smile!
Was there ever another like it? It held in it--everything.

Suddenly Livingstone felt something moving on his cheek. He put his hand
up to his face and when he took it down his fingers were wet.

With his mother's face, another face came to him, radiant with the
beauty of youth. Catherine Trelane, since that meeting in the long
avenue, had grown more and more to him, until all other motives and aims
had been merged in one radiant hope.

With his love he had grown timid; he scarcely dared look into her eyes;
yet now he braved the world for her; bore for her all the privations and
hardships of life in its first struggle. Indeed, for her, privation was
no hardship. He was poor in purse, but rich in hope. Love lit up