"You can let me go now, Mr. Mason," said he. Mr. Mason did. And he came
over and sat beside me, but said nothing more.

After a while Mr. Mason cleared his throat.

"Nicholas," said he, "when you grow older you will understand these
matters better. Your father went away to join the side he believes in,
the side we all believe in--the King's side."

"Did he ever pretend to like the other side?" asked Nick, quickly.

"When you grow older you will know his motives," answered the clergyman,
gently. "Until then; you must trust him."

"You never pretended," cried Nick.

"Thank God I never was forced to do so," said the clergyman, fervently.

It is wonderful that the conditions of our existence may wholly change
without a seeming strangeness. After many years only vivid snatches of
what I saw and heard and did at Temple Bow come back to me. I understood
but little the meaning of the seigniorial life there. My chief wonder
now is that its golden surface was not more troubled by the winds then
brewing. It was a new life to me, one that I had not dreamed of.

After that first falling out, Nick and I became inseparable. Far slower
than he in my likes and dislikes, he soon became a passion with me.
Even as a boy, he did everything with a grace unsurpassed; the dash and
daring of his pranks took one's breath; his generosity to those he loved
was prodigal. Nor did he ever miss a chance to score those under his
displeasure. At times he was reckless beyond words to describe, and
again he would fall sober for a day. He could be cruel and tender in the
same hour; abandoned and freezing in his dignity. He had an old negro
mammy whose worship for him and his possessions was idolatry. I can hear
her now calling and calling, "Marse Nick, honey, yo' supper's done got
cole," as she searched patiently among the magnolias. And suddenly there
would be a shout, and Mammy's turban go flying from her woolly head, or
Mammy herself would be dragged down from behind and sat upon.

We had our supper, Nick and I, at twilight, in the children's dining
room. A little white room, unevenly panelled, the silver candlesticks
and yellow flames fantastically reflected in the mirrors between the
deep windows, and the moths and June-bugs tilting at the lights. We sat
at a little mahogany table eating porridge and cream from round blue
bowls, with Mammy to wait on us. Sometimes there floated in upon us the
hum of revelry from the great drawing-room wher