Hinton had never come face to face with death in his life before. He started forward now and clasped his hands.
"Dying!" he repeated, in a tone of unbelief and consternation.
"Yes; you don't see it, for I am going about. I shall go about much as usual to the very last. Your idea of dying men is that they stay in bed and get weak, and have a living death long before the last great mercy comes. That will not be my case. I shall be as you see me now to the very last moment; then some day, or perhaps some night, you will come into this room, or into another room, it does not a bit matter where, and find me dead."
"And must this come soon?" repeated Hinton.
"It may not come for some months; it may stay away for a year; but again it may come to-night or to-morrow."
"Good God!" repeated Hinton.
"Yes, Mr. Hinton, you are right, in the contemplation of such a solemn and terrible event, to mention the name of your Creator. He is a good God, but His very goodness makes Him terrible. He is a God who will see justice done; who will by no means cleanse the guilty. I am going into His presence—a sinful old man. Well, I bow to His decree. But enough of this; you see my reasons for wishing for an early marriage for my child."
"Mr. Harman, I am deeply, deeply pained and shocked. May I know the nature of your malady?"
"It is unnecessary to discuss it, and does no good; suffice it to know that I carry a disease within me which by its very nature must end both soon and suddenly; also that there is no cure for the disease."
"Are you telling me all this as a secret?"