"
"What!" said Mary, "is there no difference between owing a thing
to one who loves you and one who does not? to one who would
always be wishing you had paid him and one who is glad to have
even the poor bond of a debt between you and her? All of us who
are sorry for our sins are brothers and sisters."
"O Mary!" said Tom.
"But I will tell you what will be better: let your mother pay
your debts, and I will look after Letty. I will care for her like
my own sister, Tom."
"Then I shall die happy," said Tom; and from that day began to
recover.
Many who would pay money to keep a man alive or to deliver him
from pain would pay nothing to take a killing load off the
shoulders of his mind. Hunger they can pity--not mental misery.
Tom would not hear of his mother being written to.
"I have done Letty wrong enough already," he said, "without
subjecting her to the cruel tongue of my mother. I have
conscience enough left not to have anybody else abuse her."
"But, Tom," expostulated Mary, "if you want to be good, one of
your first duties is to be reconciled to your mother."
"I am very sorry things are all wrong between us, Mary," said
Tom. "But, if you want her to come here, you don't know what you
are talking about. She must have everything her own way, or storm
from morning to night. I would gladly make it up with her, but
live with her, or die with her, I could _not_.
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