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“Gray? Is that the man’s name?” inquired Mr. Bolton. His voice was changed.

“Yes. I thought I had mentioned his name.”

“I didn’t remark it, if you did. It’s the farm adjoining Harvey’s, on the north?”

“Yes.”

“I have had it in my mind, all along, that it was the one on the south.”

“No.”

“When did you see Mr. Gray?”

“He was here about half an hour ago.”

“How does he feel about the matter?”

“He takes it hard, of course. Any man would. But it’s his luck, and he must submit. It’s no use crying over disappointments and losses, in this world.”

Mr. Bolton mused for a long time.

“I’ll see you again to-morrow,” he said, at length. “Let every thing remain as it is until then.”

The man who had been for so many years sold, as it were, to selfishness, found himself checked at last by the thought of another. While just in the act of grasping a money advantage, the interest of another arose up, and made him pause.

“If it had been any one else,” said he to himself, as he walked slowly homeward, “all would have been plain sailing. But–but”–

The sentence was not finished.

“It won’t do to turn HIM away,” was at length uttered. “He shall have the farm at a very moderate rent.”

Still, these concessions of selfishness did not relieve the mind of Mr. Bolton, nor make him feel more willing to meet the man who had done him so groat a kindness, and in such a disinterested spirit.

All that day, and for a portion of the night that followed, Mr. Bolton continued to think over the difficulty in which he found himself placed; and the more he thought, the less willing did he feel to take the great advantage of the poor farmer at first contemplated. After falling asleep, his mind continued occupied with the same subject, and in the dreams that came to him, he lived over a portion of the past.

He was again a helpless invalid, and the kind farmer and his excellent wife were ministering, as before, to his comfort. His heart was full of grateful feelings. Then a change came suddenly. He stood the spectator of a widely-spread ruin which had fallen upon the excellent Mr. Gray and his family. A fierce tempest was sweeping over his fields, and levelling all-houses, trees, and grain–in ruin to the earth. A word spoken by him would have saved all; he felt this: but he did not speak the word. The look of reproach suddenly cast upon him by the farmer so stung him that he awoke; and from that time until the day dawned, he lay pondering on the course of conduct he had best pursue.

The advantage of the purchase he had made was so great, that Mr. Bolton thought of relinquishing it with great reluctance. On the other hand, his obligation to the farmer was of such a nature, that he must, in clinging to his bargain, forfeit his self-respect, and must suffer a keen sense of mortification, if not dishonour, at any time that he happened to meet Mr. Gray face to face. Finally, after a long struggle, continued through several days, he resolved to forego the good he had attempted to grasp.

How many years since this man had done a generous action! since he had relinquished a selfish and sordid purpose out of regard to another’s well-being! And now it had cost him a desperate struggle; but after the trial was past, his mind became tranquil, and he could think of what he was about to do with an emotion of pleasure that was new in his experience. Immediately on this resolution being formed, Mr. Bolton called upon his agent. His first inquiry was:

“When did you see Gray?”

“The previous owner of your farm?”

“Yes.”

“Not since the sale. You told me to let every thing remain as it was.”

“Hasn’t he called?”

“No.”

“The loss of his farm must be felt as a great misfortune.”