They never left his bed-side then for days and nights, that new-found son and daughter: physicians came, and recommended that the knight be quite alone, quite undisturbed: but Sir Thomas would not, could not--it were cruelty to force it; so he lay feebly on his back, holding on either side the hands of Henry and Maria.
It was not so very long: they had come almost in the nick of time: a few days and hours at the most, and all will then be over.

So did they watch and pray.
And the old man faintly whispered: "Henry--son Henry: poor John, forgive him, as you and our God have now forgiven me; poor John--when he comes back again from those long years of slavery, give him a home, son--give him a home, and enough to keep him honest; tell him I love him, and forgive him; and remind him that I died, praying Heaven for my poor boy's soul.
"Henry and Maria--I had, since my great distresses, well nigh forgotten this world's wealth; but now, thank God, I have thought of it all for your sakes: in my worst estate of mind I made a wicked will.

It is in that drawer--quick, give it me.
"Thanks--thanks--there is time to tear it; and these good friends, Dr.
Jones and Mr.Blair, take witness--I destroy this wicked will; and my only child, Maria, has my wealth in course of law.

Wealth, yes--if well used, let us call it wealth; for riches may indeed be made a mine of good, and joy, and righteousness.

I am unworthy to use any of it well, unworthy of the work, unworthy of the reward: use it well, my holier children, wisely, liberally, kindly: God give you to do great good with it; God give you to feel great happiness in all your doing good.