"Yes, yes, I will do my best to remedy it," answered the dying man, whose passions were now excited against the seducer who had led him forward to crimes from which even his mind had shrunk, all accustomed as it was to evil of a less glaring kind. "Yes, I will do my best.--Ay, and he affected to feel so much pity and friendship for me too, till he got what he wanted, and now he has not been near me all day. Ay, ay! and he promised me every thing on earth that could make life happy to me, when he knew that I was dying:--but he shall not triumph in his villany. No, no!"
Although the clergyman was very willing that justice should be done, yet even that consideration was secondary in his mind to the wish of leading the unhappy man before him into a better train of feeling ere he passed to things eternal. "By all means," he said, "let us proceed as fast as possible to make the atonement that you speak of, and to secure justice to the oppressed and innocent man you mention; but in doing so, my dear sir, do not forget for one moment your present situation. Let not wrath, or disappointment, or irritation, influence you. Let your sole motive be, as far as human nature is capable of controlling and purifying its motives, the desire of showing, by full atonement, that repentance which, with faith in the merits of your Saviour, may be effectual to salvation."
"Well, well, I will do my best!" answered the dying man. "But let us make haste, for I am beginning to feel faint; and there is a dimness comes occasionally across my eyes, and a rush like water in my ears, that disturbs me. How shall we set about it, Dr. Edwards?"
"The best way will be to call in witnesses," answered the clergyman, "and to draw up before them a complete statement of everything that you think proper to reveal, therein setting forth that you are perfectly aware of your situation, and that you are in a competent state of mind for making such a declaration. I myself am a magistrate, although I seldom act; and will give the document every formality in my power."
"Ay, but the witnesses! the witnesses, sir!" said Sir Roger; "I am afraid that he may come in every minute and disturb the whole."
"There is no fear of that, I believe," answered the clergyman. "In the first place, I would not permit such an interruption, were he a monarch; and in the next place, I was told that he and several magistrates were assembled to examine some prisoners before committal."
"Ay, it is Pharold, the object of all his hate, that they have got hold of," replied Sir Roger; "and they will have him off to jail on the very things I stated against him."
"Then, indeed, no time is to be lost!" answered Dr. Edwards. "The surgeon was to follow me here very soon; for I left him in the village. His assistant and the nurse are in the next room; and I am not sure that I did not hear his step also come in a moment ago. Thus we shall have sufficient witnesses, and one who can testify to your mind being clear and unbiassed. Shall I call them in?"
Sir Roger gave a sign of assent; and gazed eagerly towards the door to which the clergyman proceeded, as if he feared that some one else might be without. No one was in the anteroom, however, but the surgeon, his assistant, and the nurse; and Dr. Edwards having called them in, and briefly stated his object, they approached the bed, and the assistant, having obtained writing materials, seated himself as near the sick man as possible, to take down his exact words. Sir Roger was about to begin, but the clergyman interposed:--"One moment, my friend," he said mildly; "we must not forget our care for your eternal salvation, under any other consideration. Let us pray to God that the spirit under which this declaration is made may be the spirit of truth, divested by his grace of human passions and frailties, that the repentance of which it is the fruit may be pure and sincere, and may be accepted;" and kneeling down, he offered a short but emphatic prayer, so full of simple and unaffected piety, that Sir Roger Millington found feelings springing up in his heart which he had not known for years, and which made the warm drops rise into his eyes.
The knight then proceeded in a voice, faint and agitated indeed, but nevertheless one which, in the profound silence that reigned around, could be distinctly heard. He took up his tale in years long back; he related how, in better times and circumstances, he had won a large sum from Sir William Ryder and the Honourable Mr. De Vaux. The first, he added, had always the character of a frank, open-hearted, but gay and thoughtless young man; the latter that of one whose keen shrewdness would have ensured him the highest fortunes, if the violence of his passions had not on many occasions marred his best-laid plans. The day, he said, had been fixed for the payment of the money, and it had been shrewdly suspected that there would be difficulty in procuring it; but the very day previous to that appointed for the discharge of the debt, Mr. De Vaux's brother was murdered; and, consequently, that gentleman succeeding to his title and estates, the payment was made without delay.