There are many beautiful things--beautiful and intimate and
feminine things--which no man can remain happy in seeing paid for by
other money than his own, for the woman he loves."
Ten minutes after it was done Caleb could not have told what impulse
was to blame for the deed, but he rose forthwith and went to his
strong-box, to return with the legal-looking document and the bunch of
tax-receipts which he had found among Old Tom's papers, years and years
before.
"There's the deed to some thousands of acres of the finest timber in
this country," he announced challengingly, "all ship-shape in the name
of Stephen O'Mara, 2nd! Old Tom bought them for the boy he hid away
with him, in the days when timber-lands were going for a song. He paid
the taxes until he was drowned, and I--I've paid 'em since, my dear!
Three or four hundred thousand dollars, or more, ought to buy quite an
amount of--er--feminine necessities, it seems to me."
With delicately thin fingers Miss Sarah leafed the papers through.
"You have never told me of this matter before, Cal," she murmured.
"Never told anybody!" chirruped Caleb triumphantly. "I tried to find
the boy--both of us did, that is--and we failed. And when he turned up
of his own accord--well, I knew a half year more of ignorance
concerning his legacy wouldn't see him starve. Sarah, I wanted to see
how that boy of ours would behave, without any backing.
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