The Gilded Age by Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner

Hawkins said take it. It was a grievous temptation, but the judge

withstood it. He said the land was for the children–he could not rob

them of their future millions for so paltry a sum. When the second

blight fell upon him, another angel appeared and offered $3,000 for the

land. He was in such deep distress that he allowed his wife to persuade

him to let the papers be drawn; but when his children came into his

presence in their poor apparel, he felt like a traitor and refused to

sign.

But now he was down again, and deeper in the mire than ever. He paced

the floor all day, he scarcely slept at night. He blushed even to

acknowledge it to himself, but treason was in his mind–he was

meditating, at last, the sale of the land. Mrs. Hawkins stepped into the

room. He had not spoken a word, but he felt as guilty as if she had

caught him in some shameful act. She said:

“Si, I do not know what we are going to do. The children are not fit to

be seen, their clothes are in such a state. But there’s something more

serious still. –There is scarcely a bite in the house to eat”

“Why, Nancy, go to Johnson—-.”

“Johnson indeed! You took that man’s part when he hadn’t a friend in the

world, and you built him up and made him rich. And here’s the result of

it: He lives in our fine house, and we live in his miserable log cabin.

He has hinted to our children that he would rather they wouldn’t come

about his yard to play with his children,–which I can bear, and bear

easy enough, for they’re not a sort we want to associate with much–but

what I can’t bear with any quietness at all, is his telling Franky our

bill was running pretty high this morning when I sent him for some meal–

and that was all he said, too–didn’t give him the meal–turned off and

went to talking with the Hargrave girls about some stuff they wanted to

cheapen.”

“Nancy, this is astounding!”

“And so it is, I warrant you. I’ve kept still, Si, as long as ever I

could. Things have been getting worse and worse, and worse and worse,

every single day; I don’t go out of the house, I feel so down; but you

had trouble enough, and I wouldn’t say a word–and I wouldn’t say a word

now, only things have got so bad that I don’t know what to do, nor where

to turn.” And she gave way and put her face in her hands and cried.

“Poor child, don’t grieve so. I never thought that of Johnson. I am

clear at my wit’s end. I don’t know what in the world to do. Now if

somebody would come along and offer $3,000–Uh, if somebody only would

come along and offer $3,000 for that Tennessee Land.”

“You’d sell it, S!” said Mrs. Hawkins excitedly.

“Try me!”

Mrs. Hawkins was out of the room in a moment. Within a minute she was

back again with a business-looking stranger, whom she seated, and then

she took her leave again. Hawkins said to himself, ” How can a man ever

lose faith? When the blackest hour comes, Providence always comes with

it–ah, this is the very timeliest help that ever poor harried devil had;

if this blessed man offers but a thousand I’ll embrace him like a

brother!”

The stranger said:

“I am aware that you own 75,000 acres, of land in East Tennessee, and

without sacrificing your time, I will come to the point at once. I am

agent of an iron manufacturing company, and they empower me to offer you

ten thousand dollars for that land.”

Hawkins’s heart bounded within him. His whole frame was racked and

wrenched with fettered hurrahs. His first impulse was to shout “Done!

and God bless the iron company, too!”

But a something flitted through his mind, and his opened lips uttered

nothing. The enthusiasm faded away from his eyes, and the look of a man

who is thinking took its place. Presently, in a hesitating, undecided

way, he said:

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