CHAPTER XXXII
RISEN FROM THE DEAD
Ralph Pendleton proceeded.
“This blow overwhelmed me. All that I had been laboring for seemed suddenly snatched from me.”
“You had your money,” suggested Mr. Stanton.
“Yes, I had my money; but for money itself I cared little.”
Mr. Stanton shrugged his shoulders a little contemptuously. He could not understand how anyone could think slightingly of money, and he decided in his own mind that Ralph was an unpractical enthusiast.
“I valued money only as a means to an end, and that end was to make Margaret Lindsay my wife. She failed me, and my money lost its charm.”
“There were plenty who could have consoled you in her place.”
“No doubt, I might have been successful in other quarters, but I did not care to try. I left New York in disgust, and, going West, I buried myself in the forest, where I built a rude cabin, and there I have lived since, an unsocial, solitary life. Years have passed since I visited New York.”