Such thoughts
occupied him, until finally, as often fortunately happens in our mental
crises, a humdrum, domestic voice, the supper bell, called him, and
leaving his garments strewn about the room, he went downstairs.
His mother was still sitting in the porch, and he became at once
conscious of a change in her appearance. As she looked up in pleased
expectancy, he recognized the cause, and his sternness vanished
instantly, as he said, "How fine we look to-night," and half sitting on
the little foot-bench beside her, and half kneeling, he touched the soft
lace, and gently kissed the withered cheek whose blood was still not so
far from the surface but that it could return in answer to the caress,
while she looked yearningly into the eyes that even now were hardly on a
level with hers, as if searching for the cause of what might be troubling
him. Yet she only said, as they rose and went indoors, "I put on your
gifts for you, at our first supper together," adding with an
unconsciousness that made Horace smile in spite of himself,--"besides, I
shouldn't wonder if some of the neighbours might drop in to see us, for
it must have got about by this time that you've come home; the mail
carrier saw you drive out this morning, I'm quite sure."
Neighbours did call; some from pure friendliness, others to see if
"Horace acted set up by his new callin' and fortune," and still others,
who had been to the Bluffs that afternoon, to tell of the wonders of the
festival, their praise or condemnation varying according to age, until
Mrs.
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