“Did I tell you I’d made my will?” he feebly insisted.
“Yes, father,” said Clara. “Don’t worry about your will.”
“I’ve left th’ business to Edwin, and all th’ rest’s divided between you two wenches.” He was weeping gently.
“Don’t worry about that, father,” Clara repeated. “Why are you thinking so much about your will?” She tried to speak in a tone that was easy and matter-of-fact. But she could not. This was the first authentic information that any of them had had as to the dispositions of the will, and it was exciting.
Then Darius began to try to sit up, and there were protests against such an act. Though he sat up to take his food, the tone of these apprehensive remonstrances implied that to sit up at any other time was to endanger his life. Darius, however, with a weak scowl, continued to lift himself, whereupon Maggie aided him, and Auntie Hamps like lightning put a shawl round his shoulders. He sighed, and stretched out his hand to the night-table for his gold watch and chain, which he dangled towards Edwin.
“I want ye—” He stopped, controlling the muscles of his face.
“He wants you to wind it up,” said Clara, struck by her own insight.
“No, he doesn’t,” said Edwin. “He knows it’s wound up.”
“I want ye—” Darius recommenced. But he was defeated again by his insidious foe. He wept loudly and without restraint for a few moments, and then suddenly ceased, and endeavoured to speak, and wept anew, agitating the watch in the direction of Edwin.
“Take it, Edwin,” said Mrs Hamps. “Perhaps he wants it put away,” she added, as Edwin obeyed.