“Well ‘hate’ is perhaps too strong a word; but I think that her inflexible disapproval of the social conditions here will never alter. You know her character. Her ideas are not easily changed and she thinks little outside of Boston and Boston ideals worthy of much consideration.”
“Poor, dear sister! I had hoped that maternity and her early widowhood would awake in her a sense of the vast duties and responsibilities attached to her position as a southern woman. How I have longed to hear that she had learned the blessed lesson.”
To these words Elliott listened intently, his breath coming quick with rebellious mortification.
“If she had learned that lesson I might not now have to sacrifice the old home,” said Elliott, somewhat impetuously.
“Sacrifice!” repeated the other, “and did you care to hold it?”
“It was the dearest wish of my life to do so,” was the reply.
Mr. Field gazed at the young man with a look of admiration.
“Elliott, my nephew,” he fervently said, holding out his hand as he spoke, “if it will please you to call me friend as well as uncle, I shall refuse neither the name nor the duties.”
“Uncle Philip, I thank you and accept your kindly offer,” and Elliott’s face brightened. The furrow which care had been ploughing between his brows the past few days, smoothed itself out. Then in a burst of confidence, he continued:
“It has long been my ambition to do something with this place, worthy of the memory of my father; but my mother is a little extravagant, I am afraid, and I have not as yet been able to carry out my wish. She lately drew upon me for twenty-two hundred dollars and it came at a time when my only recourse was either to sell the place or dishonor her paper.”