"
The reply was of the simplest, and it was the end of argument.
"Father," Dick said, very gently, "I can't."
There followed a little period of quiet between the two. The
father, from his desk, stood facing his son, who thus denied him
in all honesty because the heart so commanded. The son rested
motionless and looked with unflinching eyes into his father's
face. In the gaze of each was a great affection.
"You're all I have, my boy," the older man said at last. And now
the big voice was a mildest whisper of love.
"Yes, Dad," came the answer--another whisper, since it is hard to
voice the truth of feeling such as this. "If I could avoid it, I
wouldn't hurt you for anything in the world. I'm sorry, Dad,
awfully sorry----" He hesitated, then his voice rang out clearly.
There was in his tone, when he spoke again, a recognition of that
loneliness which is the curse and the crown of being:
"But," he ended, "I must fight this out by myself--fight it out
in my own way.... And I'm going to do it!"
CHAPTER XVI.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274