"But, my boy, my first-born, my little Cecil, they can never be to me
what you have been. I can never feel for them as I feel for you; they
are the ninety and nine who have never wandered away upon the
mountains, and who have never been tempted, and have never left their
home for either good or evil. But you, Cecil, though you have made my
heart ache until I thought and even hoped it would stop beating, and
though you have given me many, many nights that I could not sleep, are
still dearer to me than anything else in the world. You are the flesh
of my flesh and the bone of my bone, and I cannot bear living on
without you. I cannot be at rest here, or look forward contentedly to
a rest hereafter, unless you are by me and hear me, unless I can see
your face and touch you and hear your laugh in the halls. Come back to
me, Cecil; to Harringford and the people that know you best, and know
what is best in you and love you for it. I can have only a few more
years here now when you will take my place and keep up my name. I will
not be here to trouble you much longer; but, my boy, while I am here,
come to me and make me happy for the rest of my life. There are others
who need you, Cecil.
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