In his wonder at the loving solicitude which had brought his cousin across the water to his dying bed, he almost seemed to undervalue the act of rare unselfishness by which so much money had been relinquished which might have been kept without fear of reproach. “Cobbler” Horn was not hurt by the seeming insensibility of his poor cousin to the great sacrifice he had made on his behalf. He did not desire, nor did he think that he deserved, any credit for what he had done. He had simply done his duty, as a matter of course. But he was much gratified that his poor cousin was so grateful for his coming. He sat down, with shining eyes, by the bedside, and took the wasted hand in his once more.
“Cousin,” he asked, “have they cared for you in every way?”
“Yes, cousin, they have done what they could, thanks to your goodness!”
“Not at all. Your own money will pay the bill, you know.”
For a moment cousin Jack was perplexed. His own money? He had not a cent. in the world! He had actually forgotten that his cousin had made him rich.
“My own money?”
“Yes; the third part of what uncle left you know.”
A slight flush mantled the hollow cheeks.
“Oh yes; what a dunce I am! I’m afraid I’m very ungrateful. But you see I seem to have done with such things. And yet the money is going to be of some use to me after all.”
“Yes, that it is! It shall bring you comfort, ease, and, if possible, health and life.”