Part 79 (2/2)
But, when I came to announce our engagement to my family, they warned me that if I married her they would disinherit and disown me.”
”What was their reason, Richling?”
”Nothing.”
”But, Richling, they had a reason of some sort.”
”Nothing in the world but that Mary was a Northern girl. Simple sectional prejudice. I didn't tell Mary. I didn't think they would do it; but I knew Mary would refuse to put me to the risk. We married, and they carried out their threat.”
The Doctor uttered a low exclamation, and both were silent.
”Doctor,” began the sick man once more.
”Yes, Richling.”
”I suppose you never looked into the case of a man who needed help, but you were sure to find that some one thing was the key to all his troubles; did you?”
The Doctor was silent again.
”I'll give you the key to mine, Doctor: I took up the gage thrown down by my family as though it were thrown down by society at large. I said I would match pride with pride. I said I would go among strangers, take a new name, and make it as honorable as the old. I saw Mary didn't think it wise; but she believed whatever I did was best, and”--he smiled and whispered--”I thought so too. I suppose my troubles have more than one key; but that's the outside one. Let me rest a little.
”Doctor, I die nameless. I had a name, a good name, and only too proud a one. It's mine still. I've never tarnished it--not even in prison. I will not stain it now by disclosing it. I carry it with me to G.o.d's throne.”
The whisperer ceased, exhausted. The Doctor rested an elbow on a knee and laid his face in his hand. Presently Richling moved, and he raised a look of sad inquiry.
”Bury me here in New Orleans, Doctor, will you?”
”Why, Richling?”
”Well--this has been--my--battle-ground. I'd like to be buried on the field,--like the other soldiers. Not that I've been a good one; but--I want to lie where you can point to me as you tell my story. If it could be so, I should like to lie in sight--of that old prison.”
The Doctor brushed his eyes with his handkerchief and wiped his brow.
”Doctor,” said the invalid again, ”will you read me just four verses in the Bible?”
”Why, yes, my boy, as many as you wish to hear.”
”No, only four.” His free hand moved for the book that lay on the bed, and presently the Doctor read:--
”'My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations;
”'Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.
”'But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.
”'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of G.o.d, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.'”
”There,” whispered the sick man, and rested with a peaceful look in all his face. ”It--doesn't mean wisdom in general, Doctor,--such as Solomon asked for.”
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