He knows that he is not fit. Is he fit to take my hand?"
He stretched forth his lean white hand, the hand that had signed so
many cheques. Dick did not try to touch it. The 'Bishop' wiped his
eyes. The poor fellow looked the picture of misery.
"If there be the possibility of atonement for such as he," continued
the speaker--"and God forbid that I should dare to say there is
_not_--let that atonement be made here where he has sinned. It
seems that the stoppage of his allowance tempted him to commit
suicide. I did not know my son was a coward. Now, to close for ever
that shameful avenue down which he might slink from the battle, I
pledge myself to pay again that five pounds a month during my life,
and to secure the same to Richard _Cartwright_ after my death, so
long as he shall live. That, I think, is all."
He passed with dignity out of the room and into the street, where the
buggy awaited him. Dick remained standing, but the 'Bishop' followed
the father, noting how, as soon as he had crossed the threshold, his
back became bowed and his steps faltered. He touched the old man
lightly on the shoulder.
Pages:
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373