There had been silence for some time, when Mr. Prescott called feebly—
“Paul!”
“I am here, father,” said Paul.
“I am almost gone, Paul, I don't think I shall last through the day.”
“O, father,” said Paul, sorrowfully, “Don't leave me.”
“That is the only grief I have in dying—I must leave you to struggle for yourself, Paul. I shall be able to leave you absolutely nothing.”
“Don't think of that, father. I am young and strong—I can earn my living in some way.”
“I hoped to live long enough to give you an education. I wanted you to have a fairer start in the world than I had.”
“Never mind, father,” said Paul, soothingly, “Don't be uneasy about me. God will provide for me.”
Again there was a silence, broken only by the difficult breathing of the sick man.