One evening the latter, hurrying out of his hotel, bound, as usual, for Madame Le Conte’s, nearly ran over an elderly gentleman who was just coming in. Scarcely looking at the stranger, he was brushing past with a hasty apology, when he felt a hand laid on his shoulder, while a familiar voice exclaimed, in loud tones of unfeigned, exultant delight, “Why, Espy! is it you? and don’t you know your own father, boy?” “Father!” he cried, stopping short and wheeling about, half glad, half sorry at the meeting, the gladness uppermost as his parent grasped his hand in warm, fatherly greeting and gazed in his face with the proud, affectionate look often in other days, ere pride and greed of gold had come between them, bent upon the bright, promising boy. “I did not know you were in the city, sir! When did you arrive?” “Yesterday, or rather last night; slept late; spent the rest of the day at the Exposition; just got back. Come with me to my room. I want to talk with you; have no end of things to say. Had your supper?” “Yes, sir.” “I too; got it out there. I’m dreadfully tired, but there’s an easy chair in the room; so can rest and talk at the same time. Here, let’s go up in the elevator. Capital thing, isn’t it?” “Very,” Espy answered absently, taking a seat by his father’s side, and thinking of Floy waiting and watching for his coming. “Well, where have you been all this time?” Mr. Alden asked as he took possession of the chair he had spoken of, and signed to Espy to be seated upon another close at hand. The young man answered briefly that the greater part of the past two years had been spent by him in Italy perfecting himself in his art; that he was now doing well pecuniarily, and hoped soon to be doing much better. “Very good! very good indeed!” commented his father, rubbing his hands and smiling broadly. “Glad you’re doing so well, my boy; have always had your welfare very much at heart. Now about Floy Kemper--” Espy flushed hotly, and half rose from his chair. “Tut, tut! wait till you hear what I have to say!” exclaimed his father, breaking off in the middle of his sentence. “I withdrew my opposition to the match long ago, as you should have been informed if I’d known where to find you.” “Thank you, sir,” Espy said, his countenance clearing. “Everything seems to be coming round right at last. I hope that in another year I shall be in circumstances to marry.” “He evidently hasn’t seen Floy yet,” thought Mr. Alden to himself. “Wonder if he even knows where she is? You do, eh?” he said aloud, rubbing his hands again. “If it was my case--I shouldn’t wait half that time.” Espy’s countenance expressed surprise and inquiry. “I did not expect such counsel from you, sir,” he remarked, “and I cannot think it would be prudent in me, or kind to Floy, to rush into matrimony before I have proved my ability to support a wife.”