“By implying that the difference I alluded to, as apparent between you and Mr. Huyton, must necessarily be a comparison to the disadvantage of either. Or supposing that the possession of property had any influence on my likes or dislikes.”
“Did I imply such injustice to you? And yet, though theoretically we know of how little importance wealth may be in attaining the great end of life, it is difficult always to regulate our wishes; wealth gives so much power of doing good and making others happy.”
“But often, too often, takes away the wish to do so,” returned Hilary. “But if the power to oblige can be obtained only by wealth, Captain Hepburn must have valuable hoards of available riches; for I know those who feel themselves unable to repay what they owe him, except by sentiments of gratitude which can never grow cold.”
He turned his eyes upon her with a look of pleasure which was unseen, for her eyes were bent on the ground; but he made no answer.
“Mr. Huyton’s wealth will oblige the whole neighborhood to-morrow,” continued she; “but who will remember it as a favor three months hence? Oh, no, the obligations which wealth alone enables one to bestow can never be the most highly prized, or gratefully acknowledged.”
“I admit it; at least by those whose gratitude is worth having,” replied he, giving her one of those looks which she felt all over her, in every nerve; “the gratitude of the pure, unworldly, high-toned, tender heart, is very different in nature and quality from any which could count the cost of a favor by pounds and shillings. Our standard of worth is regulated, I suppose, by our favorite possessions, and the minds which value affection and truth the most, will often esteem services springing from these motives far beyond their intrinsic merit. They affix an imaginary importance to such acts, from certain properties which they perceive through the magnifying lens of a loving heart; while the ignorant and coarse-minded, seeing no token of what may be below the rough surface, naturally prefer a polished brilliant, even though it may be paste.”
It was Hilary’s turn to be silent now.
“It is La Bruyère, I think, who says that the way in which riches and honors are distributed in this world, shows of how little real value they are in the sight of Heaven,” added Captain Hepburn, when they had walked on in silence a short time.
“That seems to me too much of a discontented sort of submission for poor people to comfort themselves by,” said Hilary; “we know that riches and honors are great trials and temptations,
but they may also be great blessings. Those who have them may view them in the light in which the satirist places them, and so learn to value them less; but I do not think it does for those who have them not to comfort themselves with thinking that they are bestowed because people are wicked. May be, it is their possession which has hardened the heart, or blinded the eyes, and so their owners are subjects for our pity, not our censure. Don’t you think it is safer to view them as trials than as judgments?”