"Why should I, when I believe the bite innocuous as a cut of this penknife? Make yourself easy. I am easy, though I value your life as much as I do my own chance of happiness in eternity. Look up."
"Why, Mr. Moore?"
"I wish to see if you are cheered. Put your work down; raise your head."
"There——"
"Look at me. Thank you. And is the cloud broken?"
"I fear nothing."
"Is your mind restored to its own natural sunny clime?"
"I am very content; but I want your promise."
"Dictate."
"You know, in case the worst I have feared should happen, they will smother me. You need not smile. They will; they always do. My uncle will be full of horror, weakness, precipitation; and that is the only expedient which will suggest itself to him. Nobody in the house will be self-possessed but you. Now promise to befriend me—to keep Mr. Sympson away from me, not to let Henry come near, lest I should hurt him. Mind—mind that you take care of yourself too. But I shall not injure you; I know I shall not. Lock the chamber door against the surgeons; turn them out if they get in. Let neither the young nor the old MacTurk lay a finger on me; nor Mr. Greaves, their colleague; and lastly, if I give trouble, with your own hand administer to me a strong narcotic—such a sure dose of laudanum as shall leave no mistake. Promise to do this."