I could see in a moment that he was a business-man again. He asked me to
stay and drive back with him, and dine and spend the night, urging it
on the plea that his mother would like to see me--that she had so few
pleasures. I consented against my wish, almost against my will.

CHAPTER XIV.

No one knows what change means, what frightful possibilities of sadness
it covers, until one has such an experience as mine that night. In
former times the Holt house had been a sort of fairyland to me: our own
menage was simple and inexpensive, and, in contrast, the profusion and
splendor of Jack's home had impressed me powerfully. Their expenditure
was not moderated by what we call good taste, and they did not possess
that fine grace of compassing elegance without ostentation which is one
of the last results of culture; but as a boy I had missed nothing that
money could buy in their house, and I had often thought how my mother
would shine there. Mr. Holt had been a man to look up to with respect,
although somewhat arrogant and dictatorial, and Mrs. Holt--good, easy
soul!--had enjoyed her prosperity with an equal pride and joy in her
husband, her children, her silver plate, her heavy silks and her jewels,
which, displayed in their satin cases, were the chief show in Belfield
for the women, who used to tiptoe up the grand staircase to Mrs. Holt's
dressing-room, and come down with awe in their faces.

Mrs. Holt at this later time I write of was a sad, soft-eyed little
woman, with a patient smile: she was so much of a lady that her dress
was neat and pleasing, although of the plainest. She kissed me when I
went in with Jack, and I felt like going on my knees before her. She
treated Jack as if he were older than herself, although with the utmost
tenderness qualifying the respect she gave him; but I was a boy to her
still, and she looked lovingly in my face and told me that she knew I
was a comfort to my mother. I had been a good deal of a man in my own
eyes in Europe, but in these familiar places I did not feel much older
than I had done six years before, full-grown although I was, and so
tall that I had to stoop very low to meet the little woman's kiss.

"Here is father," said Mrs. Holt in a tender, cooing voice; and she went
up to a feeble old man in an arm-chair and began telling him that this
was Floyd come back--Floyd Randolph, whom he used to like so well years
ago. Mr. Holt looked at me with hopeless, bleared eyes, and