I have been making my will--there is something to leave; not so very much, but still something.' 'Do not talk of wills,' I said; 'I trust that you may live for many years.' He laughed.

'You must think badly of my case, nephew, when you think that I can be deceived thus.

I am about to die as you know well, and I do not fear death.

My life has been prosperous but not happy, for it was blighted in its spring--no matter how.

The story is an old one and not worth telling; moreover, whichever way it had read, it had all been one now in the hour of death.