He knew that whining wouldn't avail him, or any puling
hypocrisy. So he told the truth.
"Is that what you want?" said the father sarcastically. "Only that: my
forgiveness and my blessing?"
Dick's bold eyes fell beneath this thrust.
"The man who drove me here," continued the father, "told me a curious
story. It seems that Mr. Crisp here has toiled and moiled for many
years, keeping you in comparative luxury and idleness. Not a word,
sir. It's an open secret. For some occult reason he likes to pay this
price for your company. Having supported you so long, I presume he is
prepared to support you to the end?"
"He's my friend," said the 'Bishop' stoutly.
"My son," said the old man solemnly, "died six years ago, and he can
never, _never_," the second word rang grimly out, "be raised from
the dead. That man there," his voice faltered for the first time, "is
another son whom I do not know--whom I do not want to know--let him
ask himself if he is fit to return with me to England, to live with
those gentlewomen, his sisters, to inherit the duties and
responsibilities that even such wealth as mine bring in their train.
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