“Yes. The price of the ground, five acres, is ten thousand dollars.”
“The site is commanding and beautiful. The finest in S——, for one who thinks mainly of attracting the attention of others,” said Mr. Wallingford.
“If he builds, we shall see something on a grander scale than anything yet attempted in our neighborhood. He will overshadow you.”
“The rivalry must be on his side alone,” was Mr. Wallingford's reply. “No elegance or imposing grandeur that he may assume, can disturb me in the smallest degree. I shall only feel pity for the defect of happiness that all his blandishments must hide.”
“A splendid Italian villa is talked of.”
Mr. Wallingford shook his head.
“You doubt all this?” said I.
“Not the man's ambitious pride; but his ability to do what pride suggests. He and his compeers are poorer, by a hundred thousand dollars, than they deemed themselves a few short months ago.”
“Have they met with heavy losses?” I asked, not understanding the drift of his remark.
“The estate in trust has been withdrawn.”