There had been two Thorpes, and one of them--the Thorpe
who had always been willing to profit by knavery, and at
last in a splendid coup as a master thief had stolen nearly
a million, and would have shrunk not at all from adding
murder to the rest, to protect that plunder--this vicious
Thorpe had gone away altogether. There was no longer
a place for him in life; he would never be seen again
by mortal eye....There remained only the good Thorpe,
the pleasant, well-intentioned opulent gentleman;
the excellent citizen; the beneficent master, to whom,
even Gafferson like the others, touched a respectful forelock.
It passed in the procession of his reverie as a kind of
triumph of virtue that the good Thorpe retained the fortune
which the bad Thorpe had stolen. It was in all senses a
fortunate fact, because now it would be put to worthy uses.
Considering that he had but dimly drifted about heretofore on
the outskirts of the altruistic impulse, it was surprisingly
plain to him now that he intended to be a philanthropist.
Even as he mentioned the word to himself, the possibilities
suggested by it expanded in his thoughts. His old dormant,
formless lust for power stirred again in his pulses.
What other phase of power carried with it such rewards,
such gratitudes, such humble subservience on all sides
as far as the eye could reach--as that exercised by the
intelligently munificent philanthropist?
Intelligence! that was the note of it all.
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