"Sisters," continued young master, "will you promise to urge or offer no objection to the furtherance of this sacred wish of your dying brother?"
"I do," "I do," they simultaneously exclaimed.
"And neither of you will ever become the owner of slaves?"
"Never," "never," was the stifled reply.
"Come, now, Death, for I am ready for thee!"
"You have exerted yourself too much already," said the doctor, "now pray take this cordial and try to rest; you have overtaxed your power. Your strength is waning fast."
"No, doctor, I cannot be silent; whilst I've the strength, pray let me talk. I wish this death-bed to be an example. Call in the servants. Let me speak with them. I wish to devote my power, all that is left of me now, to them."
To this Mr. Peterkin and the doctor objected, alleging that his life required quiet.
"Do not think of me, kind friends, I shall soon be safe, and am now well-cared for. If I did not relieve myself by speech, the anxiety would kill me. As a kind favor, I beg that you will not interrupt me. Call the good servants."
Instantly they all, headed by Nace, came into the chamber, each weeping bitterly.