The Squire's DaughterHocking, Silas K. (Silas Kitto)
General
The Squire's Daughter
Hocking, Silas K. (Silas Kitto)
Landlord and tenant -- Fiction; Love stories; Social classes -- England -- Fiction
"It is a large sum," he said at length, "a very large sum. And yet, if I
am not greatly mistaken, it is but a trifle in comparison with the value
of the lode I have referred to."
"You do not mean that?" the squire said eagerly.
"But it would be folly to make its existence known until you have got
out of the hands of those money-lenders," Ralph went on.
"They would grab it all, you think?"
"I fear so. If all one hears about their cunning is true, there is
scarcely any hope for a man who once gets into their clutches. The law
seems powerless. You had better have made yourself a bankrupt right
off."
"I don't know; the disgrace is so great."
Ralph curled his lip scornfully.
"It seems to me you strain at a gnat and swallow a camel," he said.
"I have been hard pressed," the squire answered dolefully.
For several seconds neither of them spoke again. Ralph was evidently
fighting a hard battle with himself. It is not easy to be magnanimous
when it is more than probable your magnanimity will be abused. Why
should he be kind to this man? He had received nothing but cruelty at
his hands. Should he turn his cheek to the smiter? Should he restrain
himself when he had the chance of paying off old scores? Was it not
human, after all, to say an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth? Was
not revenge sweet?
They were facing each other in the very house from which he and his
mother and Ruth had been evicted, the house in which his father had died
of a broken heart. Did not every stone in it cry out for vengeance? This
man had shown them no mercy. In the hour of their greatest need he had
been more cruel than any fabled Shylock. He had insisted upon his pound
of flesh, though it meant beggary to them all. He had pursued them with
a vindictiveness that was almost without a parallel. And now that the
tables had been turned, and the tyrant, bereft of his power, was
pleading for mercy, was he to kiss the hand that before had struck him?
Moreover, what guarantee was there that if this man were restored to his
old position he would be any better than he was before? Was not his
heart what it had always been? Was he not a tyrant by nature?
Sir John watched the look of perplexity gather and deepen on Ralph's
face, and guessed the struggle that was going on within him. He felt
very humble, and more penitent than Ralph knew.
The younger man lifted his head at length, and his brow cleared.
"I have been strongly tempted," he said slowly, "to mete out to you what
you have measured to us."
"I have no claim to be considered," Sir John said humbly.
"You have thwarted me, or tried to thwart me, at every stage of my
life," Ralph went on.
"I know I have been no friend to you," was the feeble reply.
"And if I help you back to power, I have no guarantee that you will not
use that power to thwart me again."
The squire let his eyes fall to the ground, but did not reply.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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