His father gave him a thin, chilly hand at parting.

But his mother met him at the outer door and laid her trembling lips to his forehead.
"You won't bring this shame on us, Louis, I know.

Nor on yourself, nor on the name you bear....

It is an honourable name in the land, Louis....
I pray God to bless you and counsel you, my son--" She turned away, adding in a whisper--"and--and comfort you." And so he went away from Spindrift House through a snow-storm, and arrived in New York late that evening; but not too late to call Valerie on the telephone and hear again the dear voice with its happy little cry of greeting--and the promise of to-morrow's meeting before the day of duty should begin.
* * * * * Love grew as the winter sped glittering toward the far primrose dawn of spring; work filled their days; evening brought the happiness of a reunion eternally charming in its surprises, its endless novelty.

New, forever new, love seemed; and youth, too, seemed immortal.
On various occasions when Valerie chanced to be at his studio, pouring tea for him, friends of his sister came unannounced--agreeable women more or less fashionable, who pleaded his sister's sanction of an unceremonious call to see the great painted frieze before it was sent to the Court House.
He was perfectly nice to them; and Valerie was perfectly at ease; and it was very plain that these people were interested and charmed with this lovely Miss West, whom they found pouring tea in the studio of an artist already celebrated; and every one of them expressed themselves and their curiosity to his sister, Mrs.Collis, who, never having heard of Valerie West, prudently conveyed the contrary in smiling but silent acquiescence, and finally wrote to her brother and told him what was being said.
Before he determined to reply, another friend--or rather acquaintance of the Collis family--came in to see the picture--the slim and pretty Countess d'Enver.