been, but that I had refused it did not surprise her. She seemed to take
my refusal as a matter of course, whereas I was more and more doubtful
of my sanity at the time. I knew well enough what the opinion of others
would be concerning that sanity and I wondered whether or not they might
be right. In fact, I rather resented her calm certainty.
"Mother," said I, "you speak as if the offer had been five cents instead
of five thousand dollars."
"What difference does it make, Boy?" she asked. "If it had been only a
matter of price you would have sold for six hundred and fifty. That is a
good deal more than the land is worth, isn't it."
"I suppose so. But five thousand is a small fortune to us. I am not sure
that we have the right to refuse it."
"Roscoe, if you were alone in this matter--if I were not here to be
considered at all--would you have sold the land, no matter what he
offered?"
"I don't know, Mother. I think, perhaps, I should."
"I know you would not. And I know the only reason you feel the refusal
may be wrong is because you are thinking what the money might do for me.
Do you suppose I will permit you to sacrifice a principle you know is
right simply that I may have a few more luxuries which I don't need?"
"But you do need them. Why, there are so many things you need."
"No, I don't need one. So long as I have you I am perfectly happy. And
it would not make me more happy to know that you accepted a bribe--that
is what it is, a bribe--because of me. No, Boy, you did exactly right
and I am proud of you."
"I am not particularly proud of myself."
"You should be. Can't you see how differently Mr. Colton regards you
already? He does not condescend or patronize now."
"Humph! he is grateful because I helped his daughter out of a scrape,
that's all."
"It is more than that. He respects you because you are what he called
you, a man. I fancy it is a new experience to him to find some one, down
here at any rate, to whom his millions make absolutely no difference."
"I am glad of it. It may do him good."
"Yes, I think it will. And what you told him about the townspeople may
do him good, too. He will find, as you and I have found, that there are
no kinder, better people anywhere. You remember I warned you against
misjudging the Coltons, Roscoe. They, too, I am sure, are good people at
heart, in spite of their wealth."
"Mother, you are too charitable for this earth--too unworldly
altogether."
"Ha
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