“I suppose I’d better begin at the beginning,” said Mr. Huntington, and in a quiet, halting, reminiscent voice began his strange story.
[CHAPTER VII—MR. HUNTINGTON’S STORY]
“Our family has always been rich,—I cannot remember when the Huntingtons were not supposed to have everything they wanted. I myself have not let the great estates of my ancestors slip through my fingers as the people about here imagine. Instead,—it may surprise you—I am richer far than any Huntington has ever been before.”
Peggy gave a delighted little gasp.
“Yes, because the values of my holdings have gone right on increasing and I have used practically nothing for myself, you see. People outside think that no man would appear to be poor as I do, with none of the luxuries of life, and really be rich, for the common rule is the other way, isn’t it? Even at the cost of mortgaging house and home most people buy the outward shows of wealth in order to seem to be rich even though they are poor.
“My daughter was the most beautiful girl in the state when she was young. Her mother died when she was eighteen and so just as she began to want parties and entertainments I was obliged to do all the planning and looking after her myself. Lovely as she was, and rich beyond the dreams of neighborhood avarice, I naturally thought she would marry some kingly young fellow with a position equal to her own. But she didn’t—she married—”
He looked for a long time into the fire, and Peggy ventured to break the silence, “but that wasn’t a very democratic way of looking at things, was it? Don’t you believe a rich girl might like a very poor man, and the other way round, too?”
“She married, with my reluctant consent, a young fellow who immediately tried to get me to sell off great portions of my property and turn the money over to him for investment in some crazy oil well he had out west. He tried in every way to get control of this or that piece, using fraudulent means, it seemed to me. Finally he—borrowed a vast sum of money from a man down state—it was easy for anyone so safely connected with the Huntington family to borrow whatever he wanted—and this he sank in the well, which never amounted to anything and gave him no means of paying even the interest on his debt. With the interest greatly overdue, and no prospects, howsoever dim, of getting back his money, the rash investor from down state came to me and demanded that I reimburse him for my son-in-law’s rascality—though perhaps that is too strong a word to use.”
“And you did—didn’t you?” begged Peggy, anxiously.
“Of course,” agreed her friend. “He knew I would, though he never mentioned the transaction to me himself, but left the news for his creditor to break.