The friendship of Maurice and Ronald had not grown cold during the years they had been separated. They had corresponded regularly; their interest in each other, their affection for each other had deepened and strengthened with every year, as all emotions which have their root in the spirit must deepen and strengthen,—the elements of progress being inseparable from those affections which draw their existence from this life-source.
Maurice, during his sojourn in Charleston, had paid weekly visits to Ronald's parents, usually spending his Sundays beneath their hospitable roof; and this made the day a true Sabbath to him. During the two months he had passed in Washington, Maurice had only written brief letters to Mrs. Walton; for the rapid succession of exciting events had engrossed his time, though it could not make him forget one who was ever ready with her sympathy and counsel. Her replies also had been curtailed by the all-absorbing joy of welcoming her son after his long absence.
The young artist had now achieved an enviable reputation as a painter. His first works were characterized by a towering ambition in their conception, which his unpractised execution could not fitly illustrate; but they had disappointed no one so much as himself. After many struggles against a sense of discouragement, inseparable from high aspirations, frustrated for the moment, he had broken out of his chrysalis state of imperfect action, and spread his wings in strong and serious earnest. His sensitive perception of the great and beautiful, allied to the creative power of genius soon blazoned his prodigal gifts to the world, and he had gloried in that sense of might which makes the true artist feel he has a giant's strength for good or evil.
"I have rejoiced over your new laurels!" exclaimed Maurice, warmly; for he had learned Ronald's distinction through the journals of the day.
"They are so intangible," replied Ronald, smiling, "that I'm not quite sure of their existence. I did not tell you that my father and mother are here and most anxious to see you. When will you pay them a visit? Can you not come with me now?"
Maurice gladly consented to accompany his friend.
"You are our chief attraction to Washington," continued Ronald. "My mother was the first to propose that we should seek you out. Your letters were so sad, and even confused, that she felt you needed her. I think she fancies she has two sons, Maurice."
"She is the only mother I have ever known," answered Maurice; "and life is incomplete when a mother's place is unfilled in the soul."