"I have nothing, then, to offer which could tempt her?" asked Westlake, a little crestfallen.
"You have nothing to offer, the world has nothing to offer, which could tempt her to resign her little empire;—little now, but which she sees widening out in futurity through her three brothers' work and their children's."
"I knew," said Westlake, after he had sat for a few moments in dissatisfied silence, "I knew I had once an uncle who went off to parts unknown; but it never occurred to me that he might have descendants to whom I might owe duties. Have they not claims upon me?"
"No more than you on them. Their ancestor made his choice, as yours made his. They have the portion of goods that falleth to them. They are quite as content with their share as you are with yours. Moreover, each party is free to complete his inheritance without prejudice to the other. They can recover the worldly wealth they gave up, if they choose to turn their endeavors in that direction; and nothing forbids to your children the energy and self-denial which are their birthright as much as that of their cousins.
"New England never gives up her own. A son of hers may think he has separated himself forever from her and from her principles, but she reclaims him in his children or in his children's children.
"You have forgotten your tie to the old home. The conditions of your life forbid you to remember it. But your heart formerly rebelled against these conditions. It has never ceased to protest. Reginald's protests already, and will some day protest to purpose."
"You think so!" cried Westlake; then, checking himself, "I am glad, at least, that you think so; it proves that you like him. I was afraid"——
"You are right. I do not like him as he is, but only as he is to be. I saw what you feared I did, and marked it. I saw him knock down the boy whom he had condescended to make his playmate in default of better, for taking too much in earnest the accorded equality. But I saw, too, that his own breast was sorer with the blow than the one it hit. That is not always a cruel discipline which teaches a man early what he is capable of, whether in good or evil. When your Reginald comes to the responsible age, his conscience will hand in the account of his minority. Looking, then, on this item and on others like it, he will ask himself, 'Am I a dog that I have done these things?' and he will become a man, and a good one.
"We see farcical pretensions enough down here, where men are daily new-created from the mud. There is Milsom. He does not own even the name he wears. His father borrowed it for a time, and, having worn it out, left it with this son, decamping under shelter of a new one. The son, abandoned to his wits at twelve years old, relieved his father from the charge of inhumanity by proving them sufficient. His first exploit was the betraying of a fugitive who had shared a crust with him. This success revealed to him his proper road to fortune. He passed through the regular degrees of slave-catcher and slave-trader, to the proud altitude of slave-holder; then, moving out of the reach of old associations, proclaims himself a gentleman by descent as well as by desert. His sons take it on his word; in all simplicity believe themselves an integral part of time-honored aristocracy, and think it beneath them to do anything but mischief.