Joe was greatly troubled when he learned he had brought the smallpox to Bleak House, and one day he got some one to write out for him in very large letters that he was sorry and hoped Esther and all the others would forgive him. And this was his will.
On the last day Allan Woodcourt sat beside him, "Joe, my poor fellow," he said.
"I hear you, sir, but it's dark—let me catch your hand."
"Joe, can you say what I say?"
"I'll say anything as you do, sir, for I know it's good."
"Our Father."
"Our Father; yes, that's very good, sir."
"Which art in Heaven."
"Art in Heaven. Is the light a-comin', sir?"
"Hallowed be thy name."