Sir Wycherly's hand trembled so much when it received the pen, that, for the moment, writing was out of the question, and it became necessary to administer a restorative in order to strengthen his nerves.
"Away--out of sight," muttered the excited baronet, leaving no doubt on all present, that the uppermost feeling of the moment was the strong desire to rid himself of the presence of the offensive object.

"Sir Reginald--little Milly--poor servants--brothers--all the rest, stay." "Just be calming the mind, Sir Wycherly Wychecombe," put in Magrath, "and ye'll be solacing the body by the same effort.

When the mind is in a state of exaltation, the nervous system is apt to feel the influence of sympathy.

By bringing the two in harmonious co-operation, the testamentary devises will have none the less of validity, either in reality or in appearances." Sir Wycherly understood the surgeon, and he struggled for self-command.
He raised the pen, and succeeded in getting its point on the proper place.

Then his dim eye lighted, and shot a reproachful glance at Tom; he smiled in a ghastly manner, looked towards the paper, passed a hand across his brow, closed his eyes, and fell back on the pillow, utterly unconscious of all that belonged to life, its interests, its duties, or its feelings.