Mr. Wiltshire was defeated; so was Bertha Keys. The clergyman came and sat for a long time with the sick woman. She listened to what he had to say and then put a question to him.
"I am stronger than I was earlier in the day. I can do what I could not do a few hours back. Oh, I know well that I shall never recover, but before I go hence I want to give back what was entrusted to me."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"I mean my money, my wealth; I wish to return it to God."
"Have you not made your will? It is always right that we should leave our affairs in perfect order."
"I wish to make a fresh will, and at once. My lawyer, Mr. Wiltshire, has come and gone. He wanted me to sign a codicil which would have been wicked. God did not wish it, so He took my strength away. I could not sign the codicil, but now I can sign a fresh will which may be made. If I dictate a fresh will to you, and I put my proper signature, and two nurses sign it, will it be legal?"
"Quite legal," replied the clergyman.
"I will tell you my wishes. Get paper."
The minister crossed the room, took a sheet of paper from a table which stood in the window, and prepared to write.
Mrs. Aylmer's eyes were bright, her voice no longer trembling, and she spoke quickly.