Thus it came to pass that Dick and his father travelled together to
San Lorenzo, and together stood beside the cross in the cemetery.
Presently Dick walked away; and then the old man knelt down,
bareheaded, and prayed fervently for many minutes. Later, the father
pointed a trembling finger at the initials. "Why," he demanded
querulously, "did they not give the lad his full name?" And to this
natural question Dick had nothing to say.
"It seems," murmured the old man mournfully, "that Mr. Crisp, with all
his kindness, felt that the name should perish also. Well, amen, amen.
Will you give me your arm, sir?"
So, arm in arm, they passed from the pretty garden of sleep. Dick was
really moved, and the impulse stirred within him to make full
confession there and then. But he strangled it, and his jaw grew set
and hard. As yet he was in ignorance of the change in his father's
fortunes. Mr. Carteret assumed none of the outward signs of
prosperity. He wore the clothes of a poor parson, and his talk flowed
along the old channels, a limpid stream not without sparkle, but
babbling of no Pactolian sands.
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