"Until yesterday—what happened yesterday?"
"Mattie will tell you, Sidney—I cannot—I must not."
"Very well, we will wait," said Sidney, gravely; "there is nothing she can tell me which I cannot explain away."
"Are you sure?" was the father's eager question.
"Sure," he answered; but there was something in the tone which wavered, and Mr. Gray fancied that he detected it. He said no more, however; he was glad to see Sidney disinclined to elicit further information. Sidney paced the shop once or twice, looked round it, and then went into the parlour, without waiting for Mr. Gray's invitation, and looked carefully and curiously round the room also.
Mr. Gray followed him.
"I see the home for the first time, if you remember," said Sidney; "here, in the darkness, a fair life was spent, thanks to you and her. Here you both first taught me that there was comfort even in affliction; and here stood by my side, and fought my battle, two dear friends. What has altered them?"
"Nothing has altered their love and esteem for you, Sidney," said Mr. Gray; "whatever happens, you must believe that."
"And what has altered my love and esteem for them?" was the quick rejoinder.
"Nothing, I hope—I believe."