hat from his childish forehead. A faint color rose to his cheeks; his
eyes momentarily dropped. The highest art could have done no more! The
slight aggressiveness of his youthful finery and picturesque good looks
was condoned at once; his modesty conquered where self-assertion might
have provoked opposition, and even Mrs. Peyton felt herself impelled
to come forward with an outstretched hand scarcely less frank than her
husband's. Then Clarence lifted his eyes. He saw before him the woman
to whom his childish heart had gone out with the inscrutable longing and
adoration of a motherless, homeless, companionless boy; the woman who
had absorbed the love of his playmate without sharing it with him; who
had showered her protecting and maternal caresses on Susy, a waif like
himself, yet had not only left his heart lonely and desolate, but had
even added to his childish distrust of himself the thought that he
had excited her aversion. He saw her more beautiful than ever in her
restored health, freshness of coloring, and mature roundness of outline.
He was unconsciously touched with a man's admiration for her without
losing his boyish yearnings and half-filial affection; in her new
materialistic womanhood his youthful imagination had lifted her to
a queen and goddess. There was all this appeal in his still boyish
eyes,--eyes that had never yet known shame or fear in the expression of
their emotions; there was all this in the gesture with which he lifted
Mrs. Peyton's fingers to his lips. The little group saw in this act only
a Spanish courtesy in keeping with his accepted role. But a thrill of
surprise, of embarrassment, of intense gratification passed over her.
For he had not even looked at Susy!

Her relenting was graceful. She welcomed him with a winning smile. Then
she motioned pleasantly towards Susy.

"But here is an older friend, Mr. Brant, whom you do not seem to