There was a wonderful affection between this father and son. The earl
was the first to notice the change that had come over his bright,
handsome boy; the music had all gone from his voice, the ring from his
laughter, the light from his face. Presently he observed the deep
mourning dress.
"Hubert," he asked, suddenly, "for whom are you in mourning?"
Lord Charlewood's face flushed. For one moment he felt tempted to
answer--
"For my beloved wife whom Heaven has taken from me."
But he remembered the probable consequence of such a shock to his
father, and replied, quietly:
"For one of my friends, father--one whom you did not know." And Lord
Mountdean did not suspect.
Another time the old earl placed his arm round his son's neck.
"How I wish, Hubert," he said, "that your mother had lived to see you a
grown man! I think--do not laugh at me, my son--I think yours is perfect
manhood; you please me infinitely."
Lord Charlewood smiled at the simple, loving praise.
"I have a woman's pride in your handsome face and tall, stately figure.
How glad I am, my son, that no cloud has ever come between us! You have
been the best of sons to me.
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