“It is better. As I said, I am an old man. I have squandered your fortune, and I would be adrift in the world, a wrecked vessel—a derelict on the ocean of life.”
“Not that, professor, for I would stand by you.”
“You? Why, you have your own way to make in the world. You must set a course for yourself and keep to it. Many a good vessel has been sunk by a worthless derelict. It is better that I should go down than, worthless and helpless, I should remain afloat.”
Again his voice failed him. Wiping away his tears, Frank saw the shadow had deepened on the pale face, and the eyes were dimmer than before.
Tap! tap! tap! It seemed that the knocking at the window was louder and more insistent. The dying man heard it.
“What is that?” he whispered, in a tone that filled Frank with awe. “Do you hear that rapping?”
“Let them enter.”
“It is nothing—nothing but the branches that reach the window.”
“No, no! They have come for me, the boatmen who are to take me over the dark river. Let them enter!”