Almost the last words he spoke were, 'Let my name die with me.' Almost the last request he made was that I would keep that name a secret from all the world excepting only one person." "Some relative, I suppose ?" said I.
"Yes--a nephew," said the priest.
The moment the last word was out of his mouth, my heart gave a strange answering bound.

I suppose I must have changed color also, for the cure looked at me with sudden attention and interest.
"A nephew," the priest went on, "whom he had loved like his own child.
He told me that if this nephew ever traced him to his burial-place, and asked about him, I was free in that case to disclose all I knew.

'I should like my little Charley to know the truth,' he said.

'In spite of the difference in our ages, Charley and I were playmates years ago.'" My heart beat faster, and I felt a choking sensation at the throat the moment I heard the priest unconsciously mention my Christian name in mentioning the dying man's last words.
As soon as I could steady my voice and feel certain of my self-possession, I communicated my family name to the cure, and asked him if that was not part of the secret that he had been requested to preserve.
He started back several steps, and clasped his hands amazedly.
"Can it be ?" he said, in low tones, gazing at me earnestly, with something like dread in his face.
I gave him my passport, and looked away toward the grave.

The tears came into my eyes as the recollections of past days crowded back on me.
Hardly knowing what I did, I knelt down by the grave, and smoothed the grass over it with my hand.