Tom would like to have comforted him, but he would give him no hope of life, and that was what the old man longed for.
"Where is the box of money?" he asked, seeking to divert Jacob's mind, as well as to gain a necessary piece of information.
"It is under the floor of the room. You lift up a board just before you get to the pantry, and you will see a tin box underneath. You will find something else in it, Tom. It is a paper in which I wrote down all I know about you. You said you would forgive me for wronging you."
"Yes, Jacob."
"Perhaps you can get back your rights; but I am afraid not."
"My rights!" repeated Tom, bewildered.
"Yes; I can't tell you about it; I am too weak; the paper will tell you."
The old man began to show signs of exhaustion. The excitement of learning his hopeless condition, and the conversation which he had already held with Tom, had overtasked his feeble strength, and he showed it by his appearance.
"I am afraid I have staid too long, Jacob," said Tom, considerately. "I will go, now, but I will come back to-morrow morning."
"You won't look for the box till I am gone, Tom?" said the old man, anxiously. "I—the doctors might be wrong; and, if I get well, I would want it back again."