Amid the gloom which surrounded him, a childish face forced its sweet features upon him, and it relieved the tension of the moment.  Dear little Patricia, at least, had faith in him.  Alice’s attitude was that of sympathy and pity, but little Pat saw in him, the failure, those attributes which belong to the Knight Courageous, undaunted by the hostile flings of Fortune.  As she grew older, she too would discover that the gold was paint and the silver, tinsel; but until then, he knew her faith was in him.  He pressed his hands against his aching temples—­“God bless her for that,” he said, softly, “God bless her for that.”

XXVIII

The first train which left Pittsburgh after the arrival of Mr. Gorham’s letter bore Stephen Sanford to New York.  Gorham had found time, even with the pressure of the conflicting details, to write his old friend at length regarding the situation which made it necessary for Allen to terminate his connection with the Consolidated Companies.  There was no word of censure against the boy—­he even took pains to express in full his admiration for certain sterling qualities which this, Allen’s first business experience, had brought out.

“The time has come,” he wrote, “when Allen needs the sympathy and assistance of his father more than he ever has, or ever will need it again.  I believe I know you well enough, Stephen, to feel certain that you won’t refuse it to him simply because he has not asked for it.  What I have tried to do for him has been more for your sake than for his own, though you have misunderstood my motive.  The boy has developed rapidly, and possesses an ability for business naturally inherited from you; but when his mind is once made up it seems impossible to change him.  I hope you will set him a good example by showing him your own strength of character in going to him now.  As for our relations, Stephen, in spite of the last stormy interview, and your attitude since, I know that I have no firmer friend than you, and you know well that my affection for you has not lessened because of anything so trivial as what has passed.  Old friends are like old wine in more than one respect—­the explosion made by the blowing out of the cork does not affect the quality.  Come to me first, and let me tell you the whole story.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Sanford fumed as he finished the letter; yet the first train leaving Pittsburgh which he could catch carried him to New York.

The months which had intervened had left their impress upon him, and his friends had noticed it, though ignorant of the cause.  Allen had been away from home so much during the past few years, that his failure to appear beneath the parental roof after his return from Europe was no occasion for comment.  Yet it was not the fact that he was separated from the boy that wore on Stephen Sanford, but rather the knowledge that a barrier had arisen between them.  He had honestly