Again Isaac's words rang in his
ears. "Is it because I am a Jew? Who taught you such nonsense? Not
your Uncle Peter--he loves me. I love him." And with them arose
the vision of the man stretched to his full height, the light of
the lamp glinting on his moist forehead, his bead-like eyes
flashing in the rush of his anger.
As to the sacrifice both he and Ruth had just made, and it was now
final, this no longer troubled him. He had already weighed for her
every side of the question, taking especial pains to discuss each
phase of the subject, even going so far as to disagree with
MacFarlane's opinion as to the worthlessness of the ore lands. But
the dear child had never wavered.
"No!--I don't care," she had answered with a toss of her head.
"Let the land go if there is no other way. We can get on without
it, my darling, and these poor people cannot." She had not, of
course, if the truth must be told, weighed any of the consequences
of what their double sacrifice might entail, nor had she realized
the long years of work which might ensue, or the self-denial and
constant anxiety attending its repayment.
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