"It is not having what we want that makes us all paupers," he told himself, bitterly; "I'm as much a pauper as any of them.

I'm in a worse poor-house than the town of Upham's.

I'm in the poor-house of life where the paupers are all fed on stones." Then suddenly, as he went on, a brave spirit of revolt seized him.
"It is wanting what we have not that makes us paupers," he said, "and I will not be one, if I tear my heart out." Jerome climbed another stone wall into a shrubby pasture, and went across that to a pine wood, and thence, by devious windings and turnings, through field and forest, to his old woodland.

It was his now; he had purchased it back from the Squire.

Then he sat himself down and looked about him out of his silence and self-absorption, and it was as if he had come into a very workshop of nature.