He won't tell you hard things, I'm sure of that." "No, I suppose he'll try and make believe that death's uncommon pleasant," answered Mr.Whitelaw with a bitter laugh; "as if it could be pleasant to any man to leave such a place as Wyncomb, after doing as much for the land, and spending as much labour and money upon it, as I have done.

It's like nurses telling children that a dose of physic's pleasant; they wouldn't like to have to take it themselves." And then by-and-by, when his last day had dawned, and he felt himself growing weaker, Mr.Whitelaw expressed himself willing to comply with his wife's request.
"If it's any satisfaction to you, Nell, I'll see the parson," he said.
"His talk can't do me much harm, anyhow." Whereupon the rector of Crosber and Hallibury was sent for, and came swiftly to perform his duty to the dying man.

He was closeted with Mr.Whitelaw for some time, and did his best to awaken Christian feelings in the farmer's breast; but it was doubtful if his pious efforts resulted in much.

The soul of Stephen Whitelaw was in his barns and granaries, with his pigs and cattle.

He could not so much as conceive the idea of a world in which there should be no such thing as sale and profit.
His end came quietly enough at last, and Ellen was free.