He said this quite calmly, as though it were a matter of everyday occurrence. As for me, I could not speak, my heart was nearly bursting with pain.
"I want to say a few more things to you before I die, my own boy," he continued, slowly.
"Say what you will, father, but don't talk of dying. Surely, surely, the doctor here can make you well again."
"No, no, Roger, no doctor can cure me," and he looked wistfully into the doctor's face, who shook his head sadly. Then I felt sure that my father's words would come true; that soon I should lose him.
The doctor felt his pulse; then said that what my father wished to tell me must be told quickly.
"Yes, yes," said my father. "You, Roger, are my first-born, my own boy," and again he lingered lovingly over the words.
"Your own boy," I repeated, proudly.
"You are Trewinion's heir," he continued, "the master of all the Trewinion lands. You remember what I told you years ago, my boy?"
"Yes, father."
"Ever remember them, Roger. Be careful."