“You may have heard that John wished me to marry him?”
“Would to God you had done so!”
“That was when everybody was praising him.”
“Well?”
“Everybody is abusing him now, and railing at him and insulting him.”
“Well?”
“I want to marry him at last if there is a way—if you think it is possible and can be managed.”
“But you say he is a dying man!”
“That's why! When he comes to himself he will be thinking as you think, that his life has been a failure, and I want somebody to be there and say: 'It isn't, it is only beginning, it is the grain of mustard seed that must die, but it will live in the heart of humanity for ages and ages to come; and I would rather take up your name, injured and insulted as it is, than win all the glory the world has in it.'”
The tears were coursing down the old man's face, and for some minutes he did not attempt to speak. Then he said: