For what, in the grasp of a man like this, was to become of Clifford's
soft poetic nature, that never should have had a task more stubborn
than to set a life of beautiful enjoyment to the flow and rhythm of
musical cadences! Indeed, what had become of it already? Broken!
Blighted! All but annihilated! Soon to be wholly so!
For a moment, the thought crossed Hepzibah's mind, whether
Clifford might not really have such knowledge of their deceased
uncle's vanished estate as the Judge imputed to him. She remembered
some vague intimations, on her brother's part, which--if the
supposition were not essentially preposterous --might have been
so interpreted. There had been schemes of travel and residence
abroad, day-dreams of brilliant life at home, and splendid castles
in the air, which it would have required boundless wealth to build
and realize. Had this wealth been in her power, how gladly would
Hepzibah have bestowed it all upon her iron-hearted kinsman, to buy
for Clifford the freedom and seclusion of the desolate old house!
But she believed that her brother's schemes were as destitute of
actual substance and purpose as a child's pictures of its future life,
while sitting in a little chair by its mother's knee. Clifford had
none but shadowy gold at his command; and it was not the stuff to
satisfy Judge Pyncheon!
Was there no help in their extremity? It seemed strange that there
should be none, with a city round about her.
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