"Just because she is pretty, forsooth," interposed Rustcoin. "I believe you are gone on her yourself."
"Oh! as for me—I love her as my own daughter," replied Oldstone. "I've seen her grow up from a child, and have had plenty of time to study her disposition. I have ever found her dutiful to her parents, diligent in her duties, naturally intelligent, and of the highest principle. Her surroundings have not been altogether those that fall to the lot of a girl of that class, and she possesses all the qualities that any rational man should expect in a wife."
"Such a paragon as you describe, I confess, never came within my experience, and I have gone through something in my youth. More than once I have been on the point of making a fool of myself. At the time, I thought my goddess the most perfect being in creation, but I was soon undeceived in every case, and now I thank my stars that I have always managed to steer clear of trouble, and have remained an old bachelor."
It was the third day since Rustcoin had appeared upon the scene, since which time Oldstone had been sinking fast. At this moment he was seated, propped up by cushions, in an easy chair, in dressing gown and night cap. His friend Rustcoin was by his side, receiving instructions as to the publication of a pile of MSS, whilst Mr. Hardcase, the lawyer, whom we have mentioned as still being on the spot after the others had left, was now engaged in putting the antiquary's will into legal form.
Dr. Bleedem having retired to London, his successor, Dr. Dosemore, had been called in to attend the patient. He could do no more however than his predecessor had done—viz., to warn him of his approaching end informing him that he would succumb to internal gout, which would encroach upon his system, until it reached the heart, when it would take him off suddenly. The new doctor had just left the room, and the antiquary was addressing his old friend in feeble tones, as follows:—
"This pile of MSS," he said, "is a collection of tales, which I have jotted down from memory as nearly as possible in the words of the narrators, and which I desire to be bound and published, under the title of 'Tales of the Wonder Club, by Dryasdust.' I believe I am conferring a boon upon society in rescuing these precious documents from oblivion, and publishing them broadcast, for the benefit of humanity at large. See that they be illustrated by the first artists of the day, so that the book may obtain all the readier sale. So shall my soul rest in peace, and my blessing remain with those I leave behind. Tell my young friend Vandyke that my last thoughts were of him and his fair bride." Then extending one hand to his friend Rustcoin and the other to the lawyer, he sank back on his cushions and spoke no more.
"So he has gone at last, the poor old gentleman," said Hardcase, disengaging his hand from that of the corpse.
"Ay, just three days from my arrival, as predicted by the sexton—strange, isn't it?" remarked Rustcoin. "What a fine old head it is. It's a pity a cast should not be taken of it. I should so like to possess a bust of my old friend."
"Nothing is easier," said the lawyer. "I will get the new doctor to take one. I know he can, because he told me so."
Dr. Dosemore was immediately recalled, and before the day was over, a successful mould was taken of the face, which, with as little delay as possible, Rustcoin despatched to Rome, to a sculptor friend of his of some renown, with injunctions to execute for him a bust of his old friend, in the best Carrara marble, with pedestal of scagliola.