"Am I mistaken?" she asked, timidly.
"Yes, indeed, you are. I am very happy."
"Then," she said, "what is it that has changed you so?"
[Illustration: "'You are not happy, Louis.'">[
"Changed me?"
"Yes, dear."
"I am not changed, mother."
"Do you think a mother can be mistaken in her only son? You are so subdued, so serious. You are like men who have known sorrow…. What sorrow have you ever known, Louis?"
"None. No great one, mother. Perhaps, lately, I have developed—recognised—become aware of the sombre part of life—become sensitive to it—to unhappiness in others—and have cared more—"
"You speak like a man who has suffered."