"Yes, Doctor, I've been lying here to-day thinking of something I never thought of before, though I dare say you have, often. There could be no art of healing till the earth was full of graves. It is by shipwreck that we learn to build ships. All our safety--all our betterment--is secured by our knowledge of others' disasters that need not have happened had they only _known_. Will you--finish my mission?" The sick man's hand softly grasped the hand that lay upon it. And the Doctor responded:-- "How shall I do that, Richling?" "Tell my story." "But I don't know it all, Richling." "I'll tell you all that's behind. You know I'm a native of Kentucky. My name is not Richling. I belong to one of the proudest, most distinguished families in that State or in all the land. Until I married I never knew an ungratified wish. I think my bringing-up, not to be wicked, was as bad as could be. It was based upon the idea that I was always to be master, and never servant. I was to go through life with soft hands. I was educated to know, but not to do. When I left school my parents let me travel. They would have let me do anything except work. In the West--in Milwaukee--I met Mary. It was by mere chance. She was poor, but cultivated and refined; trained--you know--for knowing, not doing. I loved her and courted her, and she encouraged my suit, under the idea, you know, again,"--he smiled faintly and sadly,--"that it was nobody's business but ours. I offered my hand and was accepted. But, when I came to announce our engagement to my family, they warned me that if I married her they would disinherit and disown me." "What was their reason, Richling?" "Nothing." "But, Richling, they had a reason of some sort." "Nothing in the world but that Mary was a Northern girl. Simple sectional prejudice. I didn't tell Mary. I didn't think they would do it; but I knew Mary would refuse to put me to the risk. We married, and they carried out their threat." The Doctor uttered a low exclamation, and both were silent. "Doctor," began the sick man once more. "Yes, Richling." "I suppose you never looked into the case of a man who needed help, but you were sure to find that some one thing was the key to all his troubles; did you?" The Doctor was silent again. "I'll give you the key to mine, Doctor: I took up the gage thrown down by my family as though it were thrown down by society at large. I said I would match pride with pride. I said I would go among strangers, take a new name, and make it as honorable as the old. I saw Mary didn't think it wise; but she believed whatever I did was best, and"--he smiled and whispered--"I thought so too. I suppose my troubles have more than one key; but that's the outside one. Let me rest a little. "Doctor, I die nameless. I had a name, a good name, and only too proud a one. It's mine still. I've never tarnished it--not even in prison. I will not stain it now by disclosing it. I carry it with me to God's throne."