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Howells, William Dean, 1837-1920

"The Rise of Silas Lapham"


"Yes, but there's a difference between being there
by your own fault and being there by somebody else's."
"I don't call it his fault," she said.
"I call it mine," said the Colonel.
The girl laughed. Her thought was of her own care, and her
father's wholly of his. She must come to his ground.
"What have you been doing wrong?"
"I don't know as you'd call it wrong. It's what people
do all the time. But I wish I'd let stocks alone.
It's what I always promised your mother I would do.
But there's no use cryin' over spilt milk; or watered
stock, either."
"I don't think there's much use crying about anything. If it
could have been cried straight, it would have been all right
from the start," said the girl, going back to her own affair;
and if Lapham had not been so deeply engrossed in his,
he might have seen how little she cared for all that money
could do or undo. He did not observe her enough to see
how variable her moods were in those days, and how often
she sank from some wild gaiety into abject melancholy;
how at times she was fiercely defiant of nothing at all,
and at others inexplicably humble and patient.
But no doubt none of these signs had passed unnoticed by
his wife, to whom Lapham said one day, when he came home,
"Persis, what's the reason Pen don't marry Corey?"
"You know as well as I do, Silas," said Mrs.


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