"He is sinking, and even now I see his mind is, at times, a little clouded. However, I suppose there is nothing of importance that he should consider," said the doctor.
"He has made no will," said Mrs. Brownson,
"Is that necessary? I did not know—"
"I think it is very necessary, doctor, for his children's welfare. Not that I think it at all likely there can be any contest about what Mr. Brownson has. Yet to provide against any future troubles, it would be prudent, I think."
The good doctor assented, but looked much surprised.
And well he might. No one imagined old Mark Brownson had anything to will. But he was a very eccentric man; and the economical style of his establishment was likely one of his notions.
"Are you suffering much pain now, Mark?" asked Mrs. Brownson, a few moments after, when she was seated at her husband's bedside.
"Yes, yes; give me my composing draught—the opium—anything to relieve me," answered the suffering man.
His wife obeyed, and after his groaning and restlessness had ceased, she said:
"I want to talk to you, Mark. Can you listen now?"