to show it, I don't ask you to look at me, I ask you to look at my
house.

Keeping his engagement with Mrs. Callender, Ernest discovered that
riches might be lavishly and yet modestly used.

In crossing the hall and ascending the stairs, look where he might,
his notice was insensibly won by proofs of the taste which is not
to be purchased, and the wealth which uses, but never exhibits,
its purse. Conducted by a man-servant to the landing on the first
floor, he found a maid at the door of the boudoir waiting to
announce him. Mrs. Callender advanced to welcome her guest, in a
simple evening dress, perfectly suited to her age. All that had
looked worn and faded in her fine face by daylight was now softly
obscured by shaded lamps. Objects of beauty surrounded her, which
glowed with subdued radiance from their background of sober colour.
The influence of appearances is the strongest of all outward
influences, while it lasts. For the moment the scene produced its
impression on Ernest, in spite of the terrible anxieties which
consumed him. Mrs. Callender in his office was a woman who had
stepped out of her appropriate sphere. Mrs. Callender in her own
house was a woman who had risen to a new place in his estimation.

"I am afraid you don't thank me for forcing you to keep your
engagement," she said, with her friendly tones and her pleasant
smile.

"Indeed I do thank you," he replied. "Your beautiful house and your
gracious welcome have persuaded me into forgetting my troubles--for
a while."